


This Is the Story of a Boy, Part I: I Am Not In Need

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [9]
Category: Glee
Genre: Brotherhood, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-27
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of a boy; this is the story of three boys. Two brothers, two best friends, two lovers.</p><p>Summary for Part I: As junior year comes to an end, Noah Puckerman tries to do the right thing, while still pushing aside everything he doesn't want to think about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I set out to write a simple story of how Kurt and Puck got from point A ("Perfect Gift") to point B ("Commencing"). I ended up writing a novel and creating a world in my head. This is their story; I'm just the conduit.
> 
> Love always to my raving_liberal, who has beta'd, let me bounce ideas off her, and also been my Finn. Everyone needs a Finn; Kurt and Puck need theirs and I need mine. :)
> 
>  
> 
> [playlist for this part](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL4DF9D0F1901A6394)

"Noah?"

Puck looks up from the paper he's absently writing on. "Yeah?"

His mom steps into the room. "I need you to do me a favor."

Puck stands up, starting to reach for his wallet and keys, when his mom holds up her hand. "No, no, not an errand."

"Oh." Puck shrugs and sits back down. "What is it?"

"Your friend Rachel, from the glee club." She pauses and Puck gives her a weird look. "Her fathers are out of town for over a week, and I just–obviously they must trust her, to leave her alone." She forces out a fake-sounding laugh. "Goodness knows I couldn't leave you here, especially not and expect you to take care of Hannah." She plasters her smile on her face. "I just wondered if you'd look out for her? Maybe take some of your friends over to her place this weekend? Her fathers won't be back until late _next_ week."

Puck sighs. It's not that he dislikes Rachel; he doesn't. He doesn't necessarily like her, either; she's like an annoying cousin, someone that you tolerate and even watch out for, but who isn't necessarily your friend. Still. Saturday night out without his mom grumbling? It wasn't an opportunity Puck was going to pass up.

 

Rachel nearly blew the entire thing before it started. He doesn't know exactly what changed her mind in the fifteen minutes between he proposed the party and when she chases after him babbling about Carole King, but Puck's pretty sure that, knowing Rachel, it was either some kind of celebrity thing or Finn Hudson.

Since Finn walked into the choir room as Puck was leaving, Puck's putting his money on Finn.

Rachel wasn't entirely wrong. He does enjoy a party. Getting drunk and having sex (or, hell, making out, even) is a good way to take the edge off. It's a good way to relax at the end of the week, to ease the itch under his skin. Plus, it's expected. It's what someone like Puck _does_. And, yeah, maybe sometimes he doesn't get as drunk as everyone else, or as drunk as everyone else thinks he is.

It's a good way to make sure you don't do something really stupid, something that would get you beat up or worse. Puck's never put a finger on what exactly he thinks might happen if he lost his inhibitions and filters completely, but he can't remember a time when he wasn't a little worried about it. He's pretty sure it was before middle school. Middle school was when everything started sorting out, everyone fell into their appointed roles, and even if everything took two or three weeks to shake out at the beginning of freshmen year, when the three middle schools learned to coexist as one freshman class, well. Most of the roles stayed the same, it was just a bigger heap, and Puck had been determined to be at the top of the heap.

He hadn't been at the top of the heap for awhile now, though, and even though common sense should've told him to walk away from the glee club the first time a slushie hit his face… well. It was like Santana had said, back at their first competition.

Glee club was the best part of his day. And a party with just the twelve of them in glee club did actually sound fun. Especially if he wasn't really all that drunk. Hell, maybe Lauren would be a needy drunk or a clingy drunk or even better, like Brittany, ready to strip.

Come to think of it, he should tell Artie about his girlfriend's tendency to strip when drunk. Artie might not want to drink as much as everyone else, either.

 

Finn and Kurt aren't drinking at all, which makes four of them that are clearly more sober than the others. Puck and Artie are definitely having more fun than either of the Hudmel bros. Kurt looks like he can't decide if he should barf or cry. Puck thinks maybe a combination of the two would be appropriate, because it's really sad that he finds the short guy so attractive, and really disgusting to watch the shortest dude Puck's ever met singing with a really short girl.

And isn't this dude supposed to be gay?

Finn looks just as miserable with Rachel up there singing to someone else as he did when she was draped all over him.

 

Puck's pretty stoked that he didn't get as drunk as the others, because on Monday, he's functional and does not have a splitting headache. A headache, yeah, but he drunk two bottles of water as soon as he got home on Saturday night and took some ibuprofen when he woke up the next morning. He's not stupid, no matter what the others may think.

Even better is the look on Mr. Schuester's face when he comes up with the line about the commercials during NASCAR being for beer. Puck smirks inwardly. Yeah, he had a great time at the party, just a little buzzed, and he gets the added fun of watching his friends be stupidly drunk and then hungover.

The only problem is the matter of the Misters Berry's liquor cabinet. The one that he promised Rachel he'd restock before they arrived back home. Now it's Wednesday night and Puck is panicking.

Most of it is easy to replace. His mom probably won't notice if he takes a bottle or two of whiskey or vodka to restock the Berry's. Puck is able to score a few bottles of hard liquor just by hanging around outside the liquor stores for a few hours. The rest of it, though, he buys, and he winces as he hands over the last bills along with his fake ID.

It's easy to let everyone think that his pool cleaning went to paying for a vasectomy. Puck mentally snorts. As if. No, he's learned several lessons in the last few years, but the bills he is spending are the last of his summer earnings. He won't get more until at least the end of May.

It's not even the end of February.

 

A week later, Finn calls, suggesting they join Sam, Mike, and Artie at the movie theatre. Puck winces and says he'll call Finn back, then opens his wallet forlornly.

His mom works hard, but she's still paid for secretarial work at a small law firm in a tiny town in Ohio, so most of what she earns is spent on rent and other bills. Once a week, on her pay day, she hands Hannah a five dollar bill and Puck a ten dollar bill. That's their money for the week.

Needless to say, Puck packs a lunch most days.

Once, she did give Puck more money, but then she found out about the slushies. Then there was Quinn and Beth, and finally the stint in juvie, even if she did appreciate him taking the offered sentence instead of fighting it in court, which would've cost money they didn't have.

So Puck gets ten dollars a week, and he made his pool cleaning money last for awhile, but now it's not quite March, and Finn wants to go see a movie, and he's got three bucks.

He's staring at his wallet, as if he can magically make more money appear, when Hannah walks in the room. "What's wrong, Noah?"

"Nothing, squirt," Puck sighs. "Just wishing I had enough money to go to see a movie."

"Can't you go to the ATM like Mom does? Put your card in and get more?"

Puck rolls his eyes. "First of all, I know you know that you have to have money in your bank account before that can work. Second of all, I don't have a bank account or a card, so how could I?"

"Why not?" Hannah asks, and she sounds as if it's a perfectly reasonable question. "You're seventeen! I thought all seventeen year olds had bank accounts."

Puck frowns and glares at her. "Whatever." He stands up, grabbing his phone. "I'm gonna go to my room." He stalks down the hall and closes the door with a little too much force, then flops onto his bed. He sends Finn a quick text message.

 _No can do movie tonight. Plans_

Finn doesn't need to know that Puck's plans include the Chinese take-out his mom is bringing home, calling his Nana on the phone, and playing on his guitar before goofing off online.

No one really needs to know that Noah Puckerman is broke.

 

"Babies don't get dropped off."

Puck feels kind of dumb to point that out, but it's not like something he can forget. Quinn seems all too willing to forget, reducing her sophomore year to lost abs and stretch marks. Puck walks around with a little hole, a Beth-shaped hole, and it doesn't get any smaller. Sometimes he thinks it's getting bigger, just like she is.

Puck gets home from school and checks his email, still thinking about how Brittany could have lived through the last year and a half with them and still not understand that babies are not dropped off by the stork.

His inbox has one of Shelby's irregularly-timed missives, a somewhat lengthy update followed by inquiries into himself, and five pictures as attachments. The pictures are, as always, the best part and the worst part. The best, because he can actually see his little girl, his Beth, see that she's growing and healthy and happy. The worst, because he's reminded of just exactly what he signed away, what he gave up. Because he's reminded that he's a father, that he has a daughter.

So, really, is it his fault that he doesn't quite understand what his girl means at first the next day? He likes the way Lauren looks out for him. Sometimes she's bitchy and condescending, but it's not the same way as girls like Quinn or even Rachel. She hands him his backpack, gets him to class on time, and reminds him regularly that it's possible to leave Lima behind.

She's never called him a Lima loser.

And, yeah, Puck'd rather be making a sex tape with his girl because she wants to have sex with him, not because she wants to be famous, but Puck's tired of 'variety' meaning using his left hand in the shower versus his right hand in bed. He _is_ a little dazed at the thought of having sex with Lauren, having sex with someone that he really gives a damn about, and has given a damn about for more than thirty minutes or so before they get naked.

The sex tape that Lauren shows him isn't particularly exciting. The way they've made it is interesting, with all the stupid editing, and he really does think the sheets are awesome, which probably means he paid too much attention during his stint at minimum-wage employment at Sheet 'N Things.

Ms. Holiday's news about what making a sex tape could mean for him, though, sends him into a tailspin. There was a good reason he freaked out in Figgins' office: he can't survive another trip to juvie.

Half an hour on Google leaves him wide-eyed and losing his dinner in the bathroom, which really pisses him off, because his mom made one of her awesome casseroles for dinner and there weren't many leftovers. Child pornography wouldn't land him in juvie again; it'd be on his record forever.

Forever.

A little more time spent reading about sex offenders and registries and Puck's back in the bathroom, puking up the ice cream he ate to replace the casserole. Hannah hears him and goes to get his mom.

His mom wants to know what's wrong, because she's known for years that Puck's a stress puker, but he doesn't answer, just shakes his head and tries to ignore the fact that he's crying.

Puck doesn't go to school the next day. He crawls into his bed and alternates sobbing and puking throughout the morning. He's kind of hated some of the things he used to do. Artie's a pretty cool dude, and he locked him in a port-a-toilet once. He hangs out with Kurt sometimes now, when he goes to play video games or watch movies with Finn, and he can't believe he used to throw Kurt in a dumpster. A _dumpster_. What the hell was he thinking? Seriously. _What was he thinking?_

What was he thinking when he took Quinn seriously when she said yes, even though he knew she'd drunk two wine coolers in rapid succession? Hell, what was he thinking, propositioning his best friend's girl, anyway?

What was he thinking when he stole the bake sale money?

What was he thinking when he said good-bye to his baby girl?

What was he thinking when he sat outside the convenience store and put the car into drive?

What was he thinking when he let them think that he was trying to steal the ATM, and let them send him to juvie? What was he thinking trying to cry for help in a way that would have cost his mom a ton of money if he hadn't taken the criminal charges?

Had he ever been thinking?

He stops crying around noon and eats the leftover casserole and the leftover ice cream, and keeps them down. He goes through his room with a trash bag and a box, and takes the trash bag to the dumpster before he can think about it. He sits down at the computer and deletes half of his bookmarks. When his mom gets home, she hands him his weekly ten dollar bill and he asks if he can take the car to Wal-Mart.

He spends five dollars and eighty-four cents at Wal-Mart. He doesn't want to head home just yet, so he parks the car at the apartment building and walks through town slowly. He walks into Starbucks and spends another three dollars on coffee. The older woman behind the counter smiles kindly at him and reaches for a cup a size larger than he pays for.

"Oh, uh, I only ordered a tall, ma'am."

She stops and cocks her head, taking him in. "You ever thought about working here?"

"Uh. No? I mean. Not specifically?" he tries again, confused.

She sets the cup back on the stack and picks up the tall. "My last three employees either quit with no notice or were stealing. I've been trying that trick with every single teenager to walk in the door today. You're the only one that corrected me."

"Oh." Puck shrugs. "Just didn't seem right."

"You tell your mama she raised you good."

Puck can't help but smile sadly. He doesn't think that his mom would agree with that assessment at all.

"Here." The woman hands Puck his cup, a straw, and a piece of paper. "It's an application. You think about it. What's your name?"

"Puck. Uh. Noah Puckerman."

"Nice to meet you. Think about bringing that back, okay?"

Puck nods, knowing he'll probably crumple it up and toss it in the trash. He may not be a liar, but that doesn't mean he's honorable or whatever else this lady is thinking. It doesn't mean he'd be a good employee.

It doesn't mean he's worth taking a chance on.

Puck finds his feet taking him to Celibacy Club the next day. First things first: his dick hasn't really been his friend. First there was the whole Quinn situation. Then there's the sex tape potential arrest. He wants Lauren, but maybe Ms. Pillsbury will have some ideas for him.

Of course, he quickly realizes that when it comes to sex, Ms. P is not a good choice for counseling. She might be good at other counseling, but not sex. He hides everything behind his mask, just like he's been doing for years, really, and doesn't even flinch at Quinn's comments.

He can't resist the comment about three chicks in his bedroom, even though the last time there were three girls in his bedroom, Quinn was pregnant with Beth, and Puck was banished to the couch. Quinn invited some friends over and he left the house. Now a typical Saturday night is trying to convince Lauren to go out on a date, which inevitably fails, especially since he can't afford anything.

He's pretty sure "Afternoon Delight" is about sex, not a dessert, but hey. He tells himself he's gonna change, that he's not gonna just worry about the mask, not entirely, and standing up in front of his friends wearing white pants and an awful turquoise shirt with a neckerchief? Well, seriously, who plans costumes like that?

When he gets home that afternoon, he picks up his phone and stares at it. One more thing, and it should probably be in person, but it's the price they've all had to pay. He double-checked Finn's phone during English to make sure he had the right number, and his finger hovers over the "OK" button.

He gets distracted thinking about how much he hates his phone, because he's wanted an iPhone for years and now almost everyone has one, or a Droid, or something awesome, and he's stuck with a basic plan with limited texting, because it's what his mom can afford. His mind drifts to the application that, against all odds, isn't yet in the trash, but is sitting on his desk.

He's good at mixing things. It's why he started the pool cleaning business, and it's why he had some money from it most of the year, because after Beth was born, he couldn't face going back to basically prostituting himself out. He was someone's _dad_ , even if she wasn't _his_ daughter anymore, and after the first day, he puked in the rosebushes and started calling the husbands to make appointments, doing most of his cleaning in the evenings and on the weekends, which meant his mom had to pay less for Hannah's day camp, at least.

Mixing coffee drinks can't be that different from mixing pool chemicals, right? Except that coffee is drinkable.

He shakes himself. Fuck. Distracted. He finally hits okay, and listens to the phone ring, wondering if voicemail would be better or worse.

"Hello?"

Definitely would have been better. His voice is tentative, like he doesn't recognize the number, and Puck supposes he probably doesn't.

"Kurt? It's Puck."

"Oh. Puck. Hello." Kurt sounds surprised, and Puck can't blame him for that, really. "Did Finn let his phone die again?"

"No. Uh, I mean, I dunno. I was calling to um. Talk to you."

"Oh." Now Kurt sounds even more surprised, and a little wary. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, uh. Listen, I probably should have done this in person or something, but you're over at preppyland now and all, and just." Puck frowns. "I'm sorry."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry. For all the shit I pulled last year, and freshman year, and even what I said back in the fall about going to spy on the other schools, because that was sucky of me and I don't know what I was thinking. Which apparently I do that a lot, do things where I don't know what I was thinking."

Puck's rambling and he can't understand why he's telling Kurt so much. Maybe because Kurt's _not_ at McKinley anymore, and he can't picture Kurt running to gossip with Finn.

"Puck…" Kurt's voice is gentle. "I forgave you for all of that. A _long_ time ago. Do you really think I would sit and watch movies with you and Finn otherwise? Or anything else?"

Puck thinks for a minute, silent, then nods before remembering the other boy can't see him. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess. But I needed to say it."

"In that case, apology accepted." Kurt falls quiet for a moment, and Puck can hear another voice in the background before Kurt speaks again. "I'm sorry, I have to go, my dad needs me downstairs. I'll see you at Regionals, okay? If you're not over here before then."

"Okay. Yeah. Thanks, dude."

"You're welcome." Kurt's voice is still amused, but Puck thinks it's sincere, and he feels a little better when he hits end.

When Lauren confronts him the next day about Celibacy Club, he manages to stumble through an explanation. He _does_ think he's a loser; he just hopes he's not a _Lima_ loser.

Lauren seems to like the explanation, though, and when they walk out of the Celibacy Club meeting, she curls her fingers through his and asks if he can demonstrate his abilities with hickeys.

When Puck gets home that evening, he picks up a pen and the crumpled application, and starts to write.

 _Name: Noah Puckerman_


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes, Puck is still surprised by the depths Coach Sylvester will stoop to. They had a perfectly great song for Regionals, something that was definitely an anthem, one that Puck thought gave them an excellent chance at _winning_. Of going to Nationals in New York City.

And Sylvester has to fuck that up?

It pisses Puck off, maybe especially because there's not a damn thing any of them, even Mr. Schuester, can do to change it. They can't stop her now, and they can't stop her in the future. She is always going to be trying to ruin them. Always throwing a monkey wrench in their plans, in their hopes. And none of them can _fix_ it and it makes Puck want to punch something.

Actually, it makes him want to punch _her _, but he's plenty aware that that would be a really stupid idea. Knowing Sue Sylvester, he'd end up in jail. Which is exactly where he never, ever intends to be again, so he just glowers a bit and folds his arms across his chest.__

 _When Rachel mentions writing original songs, he doesn't say anything. Most of the club seems to think it's a stupid idea, but Puck thinks it could be fun. Okay, he knows that writing the music is fun; lyrics, probably not so much, for him, but there are twelve of them, after all, so they will no doubt manage._

 _Most of the others raise their hands to _not_ do original songs, and Puck wonders briefly if he's gonna have to stick up for Rachel's idea this time. Then Quinn speaks up in support of it, and yeah, _that's_ weird. He narrows his eyes in her direction a little. She looks perfectly innocent, but Puck of all people should know what lies beneath _that_ facade. _

Finn gets behind the idea, then, and rapidly, opinion in the room shifts towards writing original songs. Okay. Puck suppresses a smile. His abilities as a lyricist are not exactly stellar and he's not going to pretend otherwise, but he's kind of hoping he can come up with something decent, because his music is pretty good.

Plus, he'd kinda like to make it up to Lauren for when he sang "Fat Bottomed Girls" since clearly that didn't go over very well. He'd thought it was kind of awesome, but since she didn't, he owes her one. And he wasn't lying, he kind of digs trying to woo her, and music's one of the best things he's got going for him.

Especially since he hasn't decided what to do about the application still on his desk, which means he's still essentially broke. No one realizes how much he's mooching, because he's careful not to do it in an obvious way.

The day Brittany pays for his coffee, though, he feels like scum.

The thing is, he's spent awhile looking up stuff online about working at Starbucks. There are horror stories, of course, because there are those about anywhere, he figures. Hell, he posted his own (mostly made-up) horror story about Sheets 'N Things. There's a lot about how great the benefits are, though, and how someone can work just twenty hours and qualify, and Puck figures he doesn't need most of this stuff, like insurance, but then somewhere he finds a reference to a discount on cell phone service, and after that he lets himself linger for a moment over the information about tuition reimbursement.

The truth is, this offer that fell into his lap seems a little too good to be true. A little too awesome. A little too much for someone like him.

Puck's distracted while he chops up the onion and tomato for the hamburgers his mom is fixing. Hannah's opening a can of some kind of beans; it's Monday night at the Puckerman apartment, which means everyone's present, accounted for, _and_ helping cook. Puck almost cuts his finger while he's slicing the onion and swears under his breath, earning a look from his mom.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"Are you all right, Noah?"

"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine." Puck sighs and pulls a second tomato towards him. "Just thinking."

"How was school today?"

Puck shrugs. "All right. Everyone in glee club's all crazy because of Regionals."

"Oh? What songs are you doing?"

"Yeah, that'd be why everyone's going crazy," Puck explains. "We had an awesome song picked out, but we got this letter that says we can't do it, so now we're writing original songs."

"Oh." His mom flips the hamburger patties. "Well. Is everyone working on their own songs, or are you working as a group?"

"Both, I think."

His mom's voice is cautious when she continues. "Are you working on a song?"

"I'm not much of a lyricist. You've seen my English grades," he adds with a grimace that's trying to be a smile.

"But you write songs. The music, I mean. You write songs." There's a lilt at the end, making the sentence half-question and half-statement.

Puck puts the knife down, stacking the tomato slices on a plate without looking up, and waits a few beats. "I write songs," he confirms after a moment, almost mumbling, and then raises his head and nods. "Yeah, I write songs." It's a little easier to sound confident the second time.

His mom just pats him on the shoulder for a moment. "I'm sure you have something that's perfect."

Puck blinks, surprised by her unexpected show of support. "Uh. Thanks, Mom."

She opens her mouth to respond but Hannah interjects, "Mom! The beans are ready!" and the moment is lost.

Puck spends the time he should be spending on his homework trying to write lyrics for the song he chose. The song's a fun one, with a catchy beat, and he's hoping it can help gloss over the inadequacy of his lyrics. When he makes a rhyme with 'rickets' and 'tickets,' he knows it's sort of hopeless, but he continues through to the end, trying to express himself in words. It's not a talent that he has.

"Noah? It's almost Hannah's bedtime, so…" his mom gestures at his guitar.

"Oh, right, yeah, sorry," Puck nods.

"It's a nice tune," she offers with a smile. "How… how many do you have?"

Puck gestures to the three binders he bought at Wal-Mart the week before, the binders he's stuffed with the contents of the box he filled as he cleaned up his room. "That many."

"Those… those are full?"

Puck shrugs uncomfortably. "They're just… always there. Struggling to get out and on paper. When I'm asleep, when I'm in class, when I'm playing football. Always." One of his English teachers talked once about writers who were compelled to write, people who couldn't stop the words from pouring from their brain onto paper or computer screen.

That's how Puck feels about the music. It's under his skin, always bubbling. One of the many things that leads him to feel like he's itching and searching. He doesn't really have a choice; he's merely the conduit.

"Oh." She nods. "Okay. Well, good night, Noah."

"'Night, Mom."

Puck's right; the song is a perfect one, and in the end, it gets higher praise from Mr. Schue than any other individual effort. His lyrics are the weak point, Puck knows that, but Lauren seems to dig them, even the awful rickets line. She's smiling and keeping the beat along with most of the others, and Puck feels a little rush in his chest.

Pride.

For the first time in a while, Puck's actually kind of proud of himself. He wasn't just deluding himself; his music is, if not stunning, at least enjoyable. Lauren drives him home after school and even agrees to come up for a pop, though not without a ten minute lecture on what is and is not acceptable behavior on his part, followed by a threat to castrate him if his hand so much as brushes against her breast.

On the plus side, once they're in his living room and he's sitting stiffly in the chair, she walks across the room to him and kisses him hard. She makes out with him (and, really, there's no other way to put it, since she's not letting him be a very active participant) for five or ten minutes, and then smirks as she sits back down on the couch.

"You're not completely hopeless," she says, taking a drink of her pop. "Your song was cute. Strange, but cute, and I liked the tune."

"Yeah?" Puck asks hopefully, because damn. Being recognized for something he's done is kind of addictive.

"Stop fishing for compliments, Puckerman, you know it was good."

Puck just rolls his eyes. Even Lauren doesn't really get him, sometimes.

She leaves soon after that, claiming that she can't stay too long or he'll start making faulty assumptions. Whatever that's supposed to mean. Puck pulls out the frozen lasagna from the freezer and preheats the oven, then opens up the bag of salad. Hannah and his mom'll be home before too long, and Puck… well, Puck _tries_ to be a good son and a good brother. He feels like he's mostly failed at both of those, but at least he can make dinner a night or two a week, even if it is just reheating frozen stuff and getting salad dressing from the refrigerator to the table.

After dinner, Puck's mom calls him back into the living room, and he leaves Hannah to finish drying the dishes on her own. "Yeah?"

"Here." Rina hands him a plain brown paper bag, one of the really thin kind, like you get at a drugstore or bookstore or something.

Puck quirks an eyebrow at her.

"Go on, it won't explode," she huffs with a slight grin.

"Okay, okay," Puck tilts the bag and a thin spiral-bound book falls out. His eyes cloud in confusion before he turns it over and reads the front. Oh. _Oh_. He's pretty sure his eyes have widened and he looks up at his mom kind of dumbly.

"It seems like you shouldn't have to draw those lines–"

"The staff?"

"Yes, the staff. You shouldn't have to draw that every time. The man at the shop said this was good for everything, because the left-hand pages are." She frowns, pausing. "Tab?"

"Tablature."

"Yes, and the staff on the right-hand side."

Puck bites his lip and looks down for a minute, then gives her a big hug. "Thanks, Mom."

He can feel her surprise before she responds, bringing her arms up to return the embrace. "You're welcome, Noah." She pulls back and smiles, and he returns the smile.

"I'm just going to, uh," he holds the notebook up a little.

"Go," she says. "Shoo! Just remember Hannah has to go to sleep by 8:30."

"Yeah, okay," Puck tosses over his shoulder, already halfway across the room, headed towards his bedroom door. He sits down heavily at his desk, intent on starting to fill the book in front of him. He makes a mental note of the price tag on the front. $8. At the rate he's been going lately, he's going to need a new one every month or so. He casts the application another look and then disregards it, scribbling out the chords and notes that came into his head during lunch that day.

After Hannah goes to bed, he opens a drawer in his desk and slowly pulls out the book inside it. This week is Regionals; the next weekend, he's supposed to take the SAT. He's not sure why he wandered into Ms. Pillsbury's office and filled out the paperwork, but his mom was happy to pay the registration fee when Ms. Pillsbury called her about it. Then Puck felt bad about his mom spending the money, so he asked Ms. Pillsbury for a book or something to get ready for it.

He's not looked at it all that much. The math is easy. He doesn't go to math class usually, no, but that's because math's pretty straightforward. Someone, maybe Kurt or Rachel or even Quinn, once made a comment about math and music supposedly being linked. Maybe it was Kurt, because he's pretty bad at math, for all that he can sing. Anyway, Puck believes it, because they're both orderly and uncomplicated. The other stuff is complicated and he doesn't know how well he's going to manage, which is why he sighs and turns to the pages about "critical reading" for the next thirty minutes.

He just hopes his mom doesn't hate him too much for wasting her money.

He plays some music on his computer while he gets ready for school the next morning, and counts it as a good songs when some of his favorite songs come on in rapid succession. He tucks his new notebook in his backpack carefully and heads to school, reminding his mom that he has glee club after school again, as they work towards Saturday.

When Schue asks what their favorite songs are, Puck's answer is on the tip of his tongue, because he heard it just before school that morning. "What's Going On, Marvin Gaye." Lauren's nod of approval is just the icing on the cake as far as Puck's concerned.

They start writing their lyrics, drawing on their loser status at McKinley, and Puck stays mostly silent, listening to their word and rhythm choices. After about fifteen minutes, an idea occurs to him, and he scribbles it on notebook paper, not wanting to call attention to himself. Once everyone's left, he ducks into the library (because, really, no one is going to look for him there, of all places), and transcribes it onto the staff and tablature. He charms a few free copies from the librarian, and leaves them in a stack on the piano in the choir room, writing the melody line on the staff lines on the whiteboard. Just because he doesn't trust the rest of the club to figure it out, he adds the title of their song, using his left hand. He doesn't want anyone to guess that the music is his. If they use it, that's gonna be sweet, and if they don't, he doesn't want any fake sympathy.

There's speculation about the writer of the music when everyone filters in the next afternoon, but the consensus develops that maybe it was Brad, who just sits and smiles, enigmatic as always. The point is, in Puck's mind, the music _works_. It fits with the lyrics with just a few adjustments, and it's got a good beat. It's easy for Brittany and Mike to develop choreography to go with it, and it doesn't require anyone to strain their vocal range.

Puck walks home on Thursday and Friday both with a shit-eating grin, because he knows he did _good_. His mom comments on his good mood, and he even sits through a game of Clue with his sister and mom on Friday night. He's saving his ten dollars this week, because _when_ they win Regionals, he knows there's going to be pizza or ice cream or something.

Puck's suddenly grateful that he's sitting next to Rachel when Aural Intensity starts to sing about Jesus. They exchange a look and a roll of the eyes that, Puck thinks, probably only the two Jewish kids can really get.

Puck's not sure why watching Kurt in his ugly uniform is affecting him so much. A glance out of the corner of his eyes, though, shows that all of them are a little more subdued. Yeah, Kurt's the one that had to leave, but they've all had to deal with one of them being missing, and then the preppyland school goes and gives Kurt a solo? Fuck. Not that Kurt could've, would've stayed even if Schue'd promised him a solo in every competition until graduation (though that kind of offer would no doubt be tempting, and Puck's pretty sure Rachel would take it, were it offered her, even if it involved daily waterboarding in compensation). The expression on Kurt's face is sort of heartbreaking, though, a little too pale, smile tentative, even though he's clearly happy at the same time. Puck scowls. What the hell is that place doing to their friend?

"Raise Your Glass" is fun, an audience pleaser, and Puck joins along when everyone stands and dances, but as they finish, he leans towards Rachel.

"Holy crap, they're good." Rachel doesn't stop clapping, but her head dips a little in acknowledgement. Puck clenches one fist, fingernails biting into his palm. Sure, they'd try to be happy for Kurt if his group won, but it seems like the better option would be New Directions winning and somehow getting Kurt back at McKinley where he belongs.

Right. Like Karofsky's going to just drop dead or something.

Rachel's song is good, really good, and Puck's grudgingly impressed. Then it's time to walk out on stage, and he takes a deep breath. The chords are so familiar, and his fingers twitch a little. The lyrics blend perfectly with the music, though, and in the stillness after the first verse, a loud whoop echoes from the audience. They're grinning, because of the song, but Puck's pretty sure at least part of it is because of the slender boy in the audience, yelling for them on his feet.

After the first repetition of the chorus, it's a little easier for Puck to just get into the lyrics and move, the impulse to strum the chords dissipating. The song is fun, the message is fun, and when they toss the confetti out of the cups, it occurs to Puck that he's not thrown a slushie at anyone in months, over a year.

His grins gets just a little wider as the audience cheers.

When they get back onstage for the results, Puck finds himself near the front of the stage and on the edge of their group, but that's okay with him. If they win, everyone's going to clump together, and if they don't, well. He's gonna be fine with escaping as quickly as possible.

They _do_ win, though, and in those first few seconds, all that flies through his mind is _my song, mine!_ , though he knows that's not the only reason they won. Still. Something he wrote helped them win, and he grabs Rachel and Mr. Schue in an awkward three-person hug.

The next morning, Puck wakes up early and pulls on a clean shirt and the black pants he wore for the competition, then slides his wallet and the battered Starbucks application into his pocket. He stops in the kitchen to drink some orange juice, startling his mom, who's reading the Sunday paper.

"You're up early, Noah."

Puck shrugs. "Couldn't sleep. Guess I'm still keyed up from yesterday." He puts his glass in the sink and turns back to his mom. "I thought I'd walk down to Starbucks. You want some coffee?"

"Coffee would be great, Noah, thank you." She presses two dollars into his hand and Puck doesn't argue, just stumbles out the door into the bright sunlight. The store's busy when he arrives, and he gives his order to a tiny young guy working the register. The older lady is making the drinks, though, and when she sees him, she smiles.

"Given any more thought to it?" she asks.

"Yeah," Puck nods, and pulls the folded paper out of his pocket, smoothing the worst of the creases under his hand before setting it down on the counter and sliding it towards her. "I'll take it, if it's still available."

"Be here tomorrow at 4 in the afternoon," she replies, sliding the paper into her own pocket. "Bring your social security card and your driver's license and we'll take care of all that, then get you started."

Puck smiles and picks up his drinks. "Thank you."

"No, thank you. See you tomorrow, Noah Puckerman."

 

Puck makes sure his clothes are at least unwrinkled and clean before heading to school. Yeah, he could stop by home and change, but his life will be easier if he doesn't have to. He has last period free, so he shuffles down the hall to Ms. Pillsbury's office.

"Hello, Noah, how can I help you?"

"Um, I was just wondering if there was a form or something I could fill out, so I can leave campus last period, even though I'm not a senior?" He runs his hand over his mohawk absently. "I, uh, got a job, and I'm not sure what hours I'll be working yet, but…" He trails off, staring at the floor.

"Oh, certainly." She smiles pleasantly at him. "Come in, I'll just find that for you. Your employer will have to fill out a short section and then you just bring it back to me and I'll file it for you. Where are you going to be working?"

"Starbucks," Puck replies with a shrug. "Apparently I was the only honest teenager to walk in the door that day or something."

Ms. Pillsbury shakes her head but doesn't say anything else. "Well. So here is the form." She places it in front of him. "I'll just go ahead and sign my part here," she scratches her signature, then turns it back towards Puck, "and you'll fill out this, and have your manager or supervisor fill out these four lines." She hands him the form with a smile and he folds it, placing it in his pocket with his wallet.

"Thanks, Ms. P."

"It's what I'm here for." She pauses. "Are you ready for the test on Saturday?"

Puck nods. "Yeah, I mean, I guess so." He shrugs. "The math seems pretty easy but I don't know about the writing and reading sections as much."

"I have a good feeling about this for you, Noah," she smiles encouragingly. "Don't forget to take your calculator and a snack, and get some good sleep Friday night, okay?"

"Okay." Puck nods again. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome, Noah."

Puck leaves as soon as school lets out, thinking it's better to be early on the first day. Plus, he's not sure exactly how long it will take him to walk there.

He could've asked to borrow his mom's car. It's what he did a lot sophomore year, dropping his mom and sister both off and then keeping the car all day long, returning to pick up his sister and sometimes letting his mom walk home. It's what he did at the beginning of junior year, too, until the ATM incident, and while he's asked to borrow the car occasionally since then, and his mom's never said anything, he just feels weird asking for it on a school day. He's pretty much resigned himself to getting rides until after graduation. He doesn't think much about after graduation, yet, though with things like SATs and jobs, he knows he can't put it off for too much longer. Probably not more than a few months, if he's lucky.

He texts his mom to let her know he's going to be working on "a project" and he's sorry to miss family dinner night, et cetera.

It takes 25 minutes to walk to the Starbucks, passing right by the apartment on the way, and he does sort of grimace, because really. It takes maybe four minutes to get from his house to the Starbucks in the car. Still, it's only March, and he's not too sweaty or anything when he pushes the door open at a quarter till.

"There you are," the manager greets him with a smile. She hands him a stack of paperwork and a pen. "Go ahead and start filling these out, and then we'll talk scheduling and stuff."

The paperwork is pretty basic, and it doesn't take long for Puck to complete it. He waits a few more moments before she comes over with a clipboard.

"All finished?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Great." She scoops it up and shoves it under the top sheets on the clipboard. "Now, you're still in high school?"

"Yes, ma'am. A junior."

"So, I like to make sure all my employees can open and close, both. Can you work Saturdays or Sundays?"

Puck nods. "Yeah, I mean, like, I have the SAT this Saturday, and. Oh. I've got a four day long school trip in May that falls over a weekend. But generally, yeah."

"Okay. What I'm going to do is put you down for Saturday mornings, 6 to 2:30. That gives you eight of the twenty hours you need to qualify for benefits, which, I guess you don't need insurance, but you might like the discounts and stuff." She smiles and Puck nods, a small smile on his face. "If you've got something going on on a Saturday, we'll work to switch you to Sunday morning."

"Okay, sounds good," Puck nods.

"Now, are there any days you can't work after school?"

"Thursday. And probably Tuesday, to be safe."

"Okay. What time can you get here?"

Puck pulls out the form from Ms. Pillsbury and slides it across the table. "I have last period free, so I can be here by 3:00. Two forty-five if I walk really fast and no one stops me on the way out the door."

"Three is fine," she assures him. "So, Monday and Wednesday okay? You can work 3 until close, which is 9, and that's twenty hours for the week."

Puck shrugs. "Okay." He'll have to miss family dinner night until summer, but he thinks that he can make it work out. His mom will probably be okay with it.

"When summer comes, we'll see about increasing your hours, if you want. My college kids will be off doing other things."

"Cool."

"Base pay is $8 an hour, plus you get a portion of the tips. Realistically, though, you're looking at about $140 a week, take-home."

"That much?" Puck's eyes bug out a little.

She laughs gently. "What are you spending a week right now?"

"Ten bucks from my mom," he admits grudgingly.

"You're going to feel rich." She claps him on the shoulder companionably. "Let me take you behind the counter and start showing you the ropes."

Puck spends the next two hours learning about the different drinks, and then he's sent home with a page about uniforms and what to wear, along with a packet on how to mix different drinks and how to mark the cups. He shoves it all into his backpack and wonders how long he can keep the job a secret from his mom. He's desperately afraid that something will go wrong, and somehow lying to her seems easier than even the possibility of disappointing her.

When he gets home, Hannah and his mom are only halfway through dinner, so he sits down and joins them, giving them vague answers about the project he's working on. "It's, uh, for history. We have a end of the year project for chemistry, too, so yeah. Gonna be busy, with Nationals coming up, too."

That should work for a few weeks anyway.

"Oh, they do keep you busy as a junior, don't they? SAT on Saturday, right?"

"Yeah," Puck nods, then takes another bite. "That'll take all morning so."

"No temple," Rina nods. "I assumed so. You aren't exactly a frequent attender."

Puck wants to roll his eyes, but doesn't. Temple's not exactly his scene but he doesn't have a huge problem with it other than the fact that it's on Saturday, and usually there are lots of other things on Saturdays, like tests and competitions and a chance to sleep in.

Fucking Christians, there's never anything to do on Sunday mornings. He's probably being uncharitable but he's still a little bitter about that ridiculous song Aural Intensity sang on Saturday. He meant to ask Rachel if that was legal, since she's got the whole ACLU spiel down.

The week passes in a flash of celebrations (for winning Regionals), training (for his new job), and studying (for the SAT). He makes himself turn down every invitation he receives for Friday night, which is only two invitations, because he's a member of a Regionals-winning glee club, and one of those invitations is from Finn to come over and hang out. Puck has to laugh when Finn explains that Kurt's taking the SAT the next day and bailed on some plan Burt had made for the three of them.

And, sure enough, Kurt's there at McKinley when Puck walks up early Saturday morning. It's the first time Puck's seen Kurt since he apologized over the phone, because it's not like they spoke at Regionals or anything.

"Morning," Puck nods and stands beside him as they wait.

"Good morning, Puck," Kurt replies, not looking up from his phone. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"Not really sure why I am," Puck admits, "but Ms. Pillsbury seemed to think it was a good idea, and then somehow my mom got involved, and well." He shrugs, as if to say 'here I am.'

"Well, I for one applaud you," Kurt finally looks up after hitting send on his text message. "Scone?" He holds out a paper bag filled with mini scones.

"Sure, thanks." Puck selects one and takes a bite. "How's, uh." Puck screws his face up for a minute. "Galton? No."

"Dalton?" Kurt looks like he wants to laugh, but doesn't. "Relatively monochromatic."

They walk in through the doors, then, and Kurt sighs a little. "Ah, McKinley."

"You miss it?"

"Strangely? Yes. Every terrifying minute of it, believe it or not." Kurt smiles sardonically.

"Sucks," Puck offers, unable to really offer much else, and Kurt just nods.

The check-in process is annoying and Puck is escorted to one of the math classrooms for his test. It goes about how he expects: the math is easy and he finishes with time to spare; the critical reading is definitely harder, and he doesn't finish all the questions; the writing is about the same as the reading, except he manages to finish with about 20 seconds before time is called.

They're finally released after twelve-thirty, and he ends up back next to Kurt as they're walking out the door. "Good to see you, dude."

"Thanks," Kurt said. "Likewise." He stops and frowns at his phone, then shakes his keys out. "Hopefully I'll see you around." Puck nods and starts to walk away. "Wait. You need a ride?"

"Nah, I mean, it's not far, don't–"

"It's no trouble," Kurt says with a shrug. "I'm headed towards the mall anyway, and I'm pretty sure you're closer than that."

"Yeah." Puck shrugs and turns around, walking towards Kurt's Navigator. "The apartment building on High Street."

"Oh, no, that's not far at all," Kurt nods, unlocking his doors and climbing in.

Kurt flips on the radio as soon as he turns the key, and Puck sits in silence for the four block ride. "Thanks. Really."

"You're welcome. Bye."

"See ya."

Puck crashes as soon as he gets home, ignoring his mother's questions about how the test was and how he thinks he did. He just shrugs and takes a nap, waking up in time for dinner and then spending the rest of the night goofing off online and with video games.


	3. Chapter 3

Puck barely keeps his face straight on Monday morning during glee club. Mr. Schuester has his numbers right, yeah, in that they _need_ $5000 and that means they have to _sell_ 20,000 pieces of taffy (which so isn't going to happen), but the equation on the board is all kinds of messed up.

Then he goes and says that he understands three of the four on the academic decathlon team. Puck can't resist. He puts on his best dumb expression and asks if it's because two of them are Asian and Artie wears glasses.

He's a little chagrined when Lauren admits that she doesn't remember everyone's names, but then, he doesn't have that much room to talk, because he still was calling Mercedes "Aretha" around the same time last year, so whatever.

Puck leaves school as soon as the second to last period is over, a black shirt and appropriately colored pants stowed in his backpack. The twenty-five minutes passes pretty quickly, and he's glad it's not too cold. He changes when he arrives and then goes behind the counter with a deep breath.

After an hour or two, he realizes that his first impression was correct. He's pretty good at mixing stuff. He can't remember names all that well, but he can memorize the motions that go with specific names, and there are tags on the pastry case to help figure out what someone wants from there. He doesn't have to know the difference between the different scones; he just has to read the label for the correct scone. Score.

He remembers to text his mom around 5:30 that he's working on his project again, but that tonight he won't be home until about 9:30. She responds a few moments later with a frowning emoticon, but adds that she understands schoolwork is important, too. If it were any night but Monday, it wouldn't be a big deal, and he makes a note to tell her he's hanging out with some friends on Wednesday, just in case.

Around 7, he takes a break, sipping a tall coffee and mentally reviewing how to make a latte. He sends Lauren a text message, asking if she wants to go out Friday night. He gets his first paycheck on Friday and has every intention of cashing it immediately, even if he doesn't intend to spend it all. Lauren sends back a wink and a maybe. Puck sighs and puts his phone away, finishing his coffee before going back to work.

After the doors close at nine, he watches his manager finish the closing duties, and they walk out the door at 9:15. "Need a ride?"

"Nah, I need the exercise," Puck says, shouldering his backpack. "I don't do much when it's not football season."

"What position?"

"Running back."

She nods. "See you Wednesday."

"See you."

Puck jogs slowly through the darkened streets, and it takes just over 10 minutes to get home, which is definitely better than walking. His mom is already in her bedroom when he arrives home, and he changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt before going to knock on her door.

"Mom, I'm home."

"Come in, Noah."

Puck opens the door and steps inside. "Sorry I missed dinner."

"I know you are," she smiles. "You'll be here for dinner tomorrow? Hannah misses you when you're not around."

"Yeah, I'll be here," Puck nods. "Need me to start dinner before you get home?"

"Yes, that would be wonderful." His mom's smile gets wider. "Maybe grill some of the chicken in the freezer, we can have it with rice and a vegetable or two."

"Yeah, sounds good."

"Do you have a lot of homework? A lot of other homework that is."

"Not too much. Some Spanish."

"I know you'll be glad to drop that next year."

"Definitely," Puck agrees. "One language and a smattering of Hebrew is more than enough for this brain." He bends over and kisses his mom's forehead. "Night, Mom."

"Good night, son. Go peek in on Hannah just in case she's still awake, okay?"

"Okay." Puck pulls the door closed behind him and steps across the hall to Hannah's bedroom. He pushes the door open just slightly, but her head springs off the pillow.

"Noah!"

"You should be asleep, squirt."

She rolls her eyes, and Puck just shakes his head as he crosses to her bed, sitting on the edge. "I was waiting for you."

"I can see that. How was school?"

"Boring. We had a substitute."

"Too bad. Our substitute is kind of interesting."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she's dating Mr. Schuester."

"Eww. Boys have cooties."

"Keep thinking that, Hannah." Puck stands and drops a kiss on the top of her head. "Good night."

"Good night, Noah!"

 

The next day in glee club, Schue announces his idea for the benefit concert, which everyone more or less endorses. Puck's headed out the door to lunch when Schue stops him. "Puck, wait a second."

Puck raises an eyebrow inquiringly. "What's up, Mr. Schue?"

"I'd like for you to be in charge of ticket sales."

"Yeah?" Puck, if pressed, would have to admit to some surprise. "Okay."

"Great!" Schue claps Puck on the back. "Come by my office after school and I'll give you the lockbox and the tickets should be printed by then."

"Okay," Puck nods. "Sure thing. See you then."

Puck continues out of the room and wrinkles his forehead. Huh. It didn't sound like he was second or third or last choice, either, which honestly? That's usually his first thought. To _not_ be the last choice is kind of novel, to actually be someone's first choice even more novel. He just hopes he won't get blamed with ticket sales go poorly, because he's not real confident that this thing is going to be playing to a sell-out crowd.

When Sunshine shows up, he's more than happy for her to perform. Six hundred Twitter followers buying tickets? Amazing, especially since he's sold only four so far, all to creepy Mr. Ryerson. And, well, Rachel _did_ send Sunshine to the crack house. Sure, everyone makes mistakes, so he probably shouldn't bring it up, but it's kind of hard to forget.

Puck jumps to his feet, clapping and smiling, when Sunshine finishes. Sure, she is a great singer, but the more accolades they give her, the more likely it is that she'll come. With her Twitter followers. Rachel doesn't seem to understand how this works, and he finally has to spell it out for everyone in the choir room. Everyone acquiesces pretty quickly after that.

The rest of the week passes in a blur of school, trying to sell tickets, learning the ropes at Starbucks, and driving around in various people's cars to find a Pomeranian puppy.

He likes Lauren, really he does, but he does not appreciate her encouraging Mercedes in her delusions. Not to mention, he's not sure why _he_ got volunteered to find a puppy. Well, it wasn't that he volunteered. He was voluntold, and there was a suggestion that he might actually get to take Lauren out on Friday night after all if (and only if) he finds said puppy.

He drives out past the mall to two shelters. Down to Wapakoneta. Over to Bellafontaine, and then back over to Sidney. It's the shelter in Celina that finally yields a Pomeranian mix, and he leaves the "mix" part off the description when he returns with her. When Lauren talks to the puppy about cute "he" is, he doesn't correct that misperception, either. He's just relieved to have finished before the time that Lauren said they'd go out.

They do go out, and Puck's pretty proud of himself for having the money to pay for dinner, and when Lauren suggests a movie, he pays for that too. Lauren spends half the movie texting Mercedes, though, and at the end of the night, she lets him give her a single kiss–on the cheek.

Puck wonders if it's possible for progress to unravel and go backwards. No matter what he does with Lauren, it feels like one step forward, two steps back. He's tried mixing it up; it's not like he suggests the same things all the time. He just doesn't know if she's really into him at all, in the end, and yeah, the wooing is fun, but he's starting to wonder if she'll ever make _any_ of it easy.

Actually admitting that yes, she would like to spend time with him outside of school or glee club, would be a nice start, Puck thinks.

On the night of the benefit, when Puck sells exactly two more tickets (to Kurt and his boyfriend, and Kurt looks a little downtrodden to be actually dating, Puck thinks) and he finds out that Sunshine's pulled out of the benefit, he can't help expressing his exasperation. The point of the show was to make money, and they haven't done that. They haven't made hardly any money at all!

Sure, the show must go on, and sure, there may be hostile crowds at Nationals, but by the time they go sit in the auditorium to watch Mercedes sing, Puck's almost had it. The night's a bust, even if Mercedes does nail the song, and even if Lauren does at least sit next to him.

At least, the night's a bust until creepy Mr. Ryerson actually writes them a check, which is surprisingly decent of him.

Mercedes ends up inviting all of them to her place to watch their Brainiacs compete in Detroit, and the eight of them cheer as the other four win their competition.

 

Puck's tired by midday on Monday. He worked Saturday morning and then got a call on Sunday morning, asking if he could please work closing shift, one of the others called in sick? He didn't mind, more hours meant more money, but he had planned to catch up on homework Sunday afternoon, which meant instead he was catching up until after midnight. Plus, he was kind of tired from all the dancing after school the week before. Mr. Schue hadn't let the rest of them stop practicing even after Finn took Rachel to the doctor.

And what exactly is up with those two, anyway? Quinn and Finn are back together, but Finn still looks at Rachel like he kind of wants to be with her. Puck almost wishes they'd both tell Finn no, but like that's going to happen.

Schue comes in with his new idea about acceptance, and Puck is not exactly thrilled. Why does Schuester always bring in Lady Gaga? The song isn't bad, but Puck remembers those costumes. Of course, the rest of them did KISS, and that was some awesome make-up, but still.

Ms. Pillsbury stands up to reveal her t-shirt, and it doesn't take a genius to see Schue is genuinely surprised and a little disappointed. Whatever. Puck rolls his eyes and spends the rest of the time wondering about what everyone's shirts are going to say.

Artie's will be something about his glasses or his wheelchair. Mercedes, something that relates to being black, and Tina, something that relates to being Asian. It does not take a genius to figure these things out.

Personally, Puck thinks Sam should put something about his mouth on his shirt, since that's such a sore subject, but he probably won't.

Thinking about what everyone else might put gives Puck less time to think about what he should put on his _own_ shirt, which suits him just fine. In fact, he manages to leave the choir room without thinking about it at all, and when it starts to invade his brain, he scans the hall and finds a distraction in the form of Lauren, looking at the Prom Royalty display.

He's surprised to learn about her pageant past, and then before he can really think through his words, he's offering that they run for Prom King & Queen.

 _What. Was. I. Thinking?!?_

His girl looks damn happy about it, though, so he stuffs down his immediate misgivings in favor of nodding supportively as Lauren discusses her plans for posters which, thankfully, seem to involve only her.

He's down with that. Why did he open his mouth again?

His second full Monday goes smoothly, and the manager compliments his work ethic as he finishes storing the pastries for the night. "You're a good, hard worker. Keep this up!"

"Uh, yeah, okay. Thanks." Puck smiles, a little surprised. Sometimes he doesn't recognize the person he's become in the last few months. Is he still Puck? Or was it the other guy that wasn't Puck? Are they both Puck? He's giving himself a headache and counts himself lucky that his mom and Hannah are both asleep by the time he finishes his slow walk home.

He steps into the shower, eager to get the remains of the coffee grounds that spilled on his head out of his mohawk. Unfortunately, he starts thinking about his day, and how he thinks getting a nose job is stupid, and he's pretty sure his mom would have a really good Jewish mother rant for Rachel. Which, as far as Puck can tell, is really the only thing Rachel is missing in her motherless life.

Fuck. Thinking about Rachel being motherless just makes him think about Shelby, and it's a short jump to Beth from there. Fuck. His shirt should probably say _Daughterless Father_ but he knows better than to try that. No one is supposed to talk about Beth, that's the unofficial rule. _No one_ mentions her, least of all fucking Quinn.

He wasn't lying when he said he loved her. How could he not have loved her, after meeting Beth? But that more than faded by the second week of junior year, and most of the time, he thinks he would hate her, if he could summon up energy to feel anything but sheer indifference towards one Quinn Fabray.

Puck gets out off the shower, scowling, and decides he needs a break from his brain.

 _Dude you got plans tomorrow?_

 _Nah. Wanta come over after skull_

 _Ys thx_

Puck tosses his phone onto his desk and feels a little better; at least he can crash at the Hudmel house for a little while after school and watch movies or play video games or whatever.

 

Glee club the next day is a bit of a clusterfuck, Puck thinks. First is Finn and Mike's performance, which is actually funny and well-done, but then Finn has to go and ask for reassurance that he's getting better at dancing, which falls flat because apparently everyone in the club suddenly sucks at white lies. What is up with that, Puck wonders?

Then Rachel gets up and starts talking about her nose job plans, and Puck does his best impression of a Jewish mother, except he's not a woman and he does make out with a lot of the girls at temple, so it probably doesn't have nearly the same impact. AND Lauren elbows him after attention has turned back away from him. Puck rolls his eyes. Great!

Puck leans against the wall across from Finn's last period class and walks out the door with him. "Good job today, dude," Puck says.

"Yeah? Thanks." Finn brightens a little, and Puck thinks it's pretty bad if he's the first person beside Schue to compliment him. Puck's not supposed to be the one that notices shit and makes people feel better. That's just weird.

When they get to Finn's house, they settle on Motorsport 3 and start playing. Kurt blows in after thirty minutes or so and pauses to say hello, then his eyes light up. "Motorsport 3?"

"Yeah."

"Ooh, can I?" he gestures to Finn, who rolls his eyes but hands over the controller.

"Thanks."

The three of them alternate playing after that, and eventually Finn brings up Rachel.

"I can't believe Rachel's going to do it."

"Do what?" Kurt raises his eyebrows.

"Get a nose job."

"WHAT?" Kurt screeches. There's no other word for it. "Rachel _Berry_?!?"

"I know," Puck nods. "I can't believe her dads are letting her. Clearly they are falling down on the Jewish guilt."

Finn and Kurt laugh. "I can't imagine what she's thinking," Kurt muses as Finn takes over the controls. "Did no one mention Barbra?"

The boys just look at him blankly, and he sighs. "All right. Clearly we need a plan. Finn, get everyone to the mall on Friday after school." He hides a little smile, and Puck files that away for further consideration.

Puck shrugs. "What're you thinking?"

Kurt proceeds to explain his plan, even after Finn wanders into the kitchen for snacks. Puck adds a few ideas and between the two of them, they come up with an even better plan.

"Awesome," Puck finally concludes, holding his fist out for Kurt to bump, which Kurt does with a smile.

Puck gets ready to leave after that, and he nods at Kurt. "See you Friday, then?"

Kurt smirks. "If not before," he finally concedes with a nod.

"Ookay. Later."

"Bye."

Kurt's odd behavior makes a little more sense the next day when Karofsky gets up in front of them and proceeds to apologize and say that he's looking to apologize to Kurt directly. Puck knows, they all know, that Kurt's been wanting a reason to come back pretty much ever since he left. When he showed up at Rachel's party, that was more confirmation. Who would voluntarily go to a party at Rachel Berry's if they could have gone to a rich kid party? Not even Kurt Hummel, Puck thinks, except there were people at Rachel's he wanted to see more.

Not that Puck can honestly blame him, but he's not going to tell anyone that.

And yeah, the idea of Santana and Karofsky is just repulsive on so many levels. Puck hopes they aren't going to make Kurt deal with that sight, though it'd be kind of fair, since the rest of them are having to do so.

Puck heads to work after school, making himself focus on what his t-shirt's going to read on Monday, as much as he doesn't want to think about it, but he can't seem to figure out anything pithy that's not stupid or way too honest.

Puck's not really down with being too honest.

He texts his mom that he's hanging at Finn's again, so she won't worry, and decides he'll come clean with her next week, after his third paycheck. He's just cashing them until he turns 18 and can open up a bank account.

His phone shakes in the middle of third period, and he sees Santana, Finn, and Artie all jump at the same time. Mass text, then, and it just says _Meet in the courtyard at noon_ , from Mercedes. Puck shrugs. Sure. Whatever.

He saunters out to the courtyard just in time for Mercedes to make a short speech and then Kurt appears at the top of the stairs, in actual clothes and not that stupid uniform, and they're all cheering. Yeah, Lauren's all kinds of awesome, but Santana was right. They need Kurt, too, and everything seems to slot into place, the thirteen of them standing there.

After the Galton-Dalton-whatever people come and sing to Kurt, he has to go find Rachel about the mall the next day, and she reluctantly agrees. He spends so much time trying to find her and then convince her that they're both nearly late for glee club, which would have been a damn shame, because Kurt's singing for the first time in how many months and everyone else is grinning. Finn and Quinn are cuddling, and Brittany and Artie are too, but Lauren just raises an eyebrow when he tries to lean his head on her shoulder, and he sighs. The performance is magnificent, though, they all have to acknowledge that, grinning and clapping.

As soon as the meeting is over, Lauren turns to Puck. "You can pick locks?"

"Yeah…"

"I need dirt on my competition. Meet me here after dark. Dress in black, wear gloves, and bring a flashlight. Plus whatever you need to pick locks."

"Ookay," Puck shrugs. "Sure." He's kinda always wondered what his own permanent record looks like, so maybe he can get in and find it. Maybe even alter it a little. He was a stupid little shit when he was a freshman, especially. Does it really have to follow him around forever?

So Puck spends his Thursday night breaking and entering, against all rational judgment, because if they were to get caught, it'd be back to juvie, and didn't he want to avoid that. Fuck. He's being really stupid, even if this is for Lauren. He goes straight for his permanent record and removes as much as he can without it looking too suspicious, then goes back to waiting on Lauren impatiently.

 _The stupid things I do for my dick!_

 

After work on Saturday, Puck changes his shirt and walks for forty-five minutes to meet Lauren at the movie theatre. He thinks _Sucker Punch_ will be kind of interesting, and the fact that it's about girls appeals to Lauren. They're across the street getting ice cream when he asks her about what she's doing with the information about Quinn..

"You're only thinking it's bad because it's Quinn."

Puck snorts. "As if. More like, I would definitely have a problem with it if it _weren't_ Quinn, but I guess."

"Oh?"

"It's just that she _pretends_ ," Puck hisses out, the venom in his voice surprising even him. "She wants to pretend like it's just stretch marks and ab muscles and popularity. Like she doesn't exist, like she was just a really weird tumor that disappeared, like she doesn't _miss_ her." Puck catches himself and swallows, scowling. "So, yeah, maybe a little of me thinks that she has it coming to her."

When Puck gets home just before dinner, he sits down to scribble out a song, and when he goes back into the bedroom after eating with his mom and his sister, he knows what's going on his shirt for Monday.

 

By Wednesday, Puck's feeling kind of wretched about lying to his mom so much, but it's only two more days until he gets his third paycheck, and while he doesn't think the job is going to disappear any more (for some reason, everyone that works there actually likes Puck and thinks he's doing great), he would love to be able to hand her the $30 she's given him over the last three weeks plus another $40 or so.

Mr. Schue announces that they can each come up with a song of their own choosing for the next week, and Puck has no clue what to choose. Finn invites him over on Thursday for more games, and Kurt joins them for thirty minutes or so before disappearing. "Probably to Skype with Blaine or something," Finn shrugs casually, and Puck nods. It kinda sucks for Kurt that he has to find a boyfriend that lives an hour away and doesn't go to their school. Even if Puck doesn't think that much of him. It doesn't seem like any of the rest of glee club does, really, though no one's really talking about it.

Puck leaves school during last period on Friday, headed towards Starbucks to pick up his check. He takes it to the bank and cashes it, wishing it was the end of June already, so he could just open up an account. He says something to that affect to the teller, who hurries to assure him that no, he can open an account without a parent's signature already, as long as he sets up a direct deposit to the account within two weeks.

Puck blinks and then nods, and is shunted off towards someone who will help him open an account. Forty-five minutes later, Puck emerges from the bank with a stack of temporary checks (who still uses those?), a temporary debit card (much more interesting), and a little bit of cash. He jogs home, retrieves most of the rest of his stash of cash, and deposits it as well. He keeps out $40 for his mom and $30 for the week ahead, then stashes the reminder in his account.

It hits him, looking at the balance, that he can afford to buy a new phone and pay for a data plan. _Next week_ he decides.

He heads home and decides to cook something for dinner before his mom gets home with Hannah. He's supposed to go see a movie with the rest of the guys from glee club, but not until after dinner. Probably because Finn and Kurt are held hostage by the Friday night Hudmel family dinner, but Puck's looking forward to seeing _Source Code_ and not having to mooch someone else's popcorn.

"Noah?"

"In the kitchen, Mom."

"Oh, there you are." She pokes her head around the corner and smiles tiredly. "Soup?"

"And grilled cheese," Puck nods, freeing the second of three sandwiches. "Send Hannah in here and we'll set the table."

"Okay." She disappears, and Hannah flounces up a few moments later.

"Mom said I had to help set the table."

"Yes, you do," Puck raises his eyebrows, then hands her three plates. "Aren't you too young to be so sassy?"

"Nope!"

Puck shakes his head and finishes cooking as his mom sits down at the table. He lets her mostly finish eating before he pulls out his wallet and hands over the stack of folded $10 bills, along with the two $20 bills.

"Noah? What's this?"

"Uh, the thirty bucks you've given over the last three weeks. Plus forty more just, well. Because." Puck shrugs.

"Where did you get this?"

"I got a job."

"That's where you've been?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to say anything until, you know." Puck can't put it into words, but she seems to understand and nods.

"Well. Thank you." She doesn't protest the additional money, which makes Puck heave a sigh of relief. There will be other times, when she realizes that he doesn't intend for it to be a one time thing, when she'll protest and argue, but at least this first time, she won't. "Where are you working?"

"Starbucks."

"Really?" She sounds intrigued. "I've heard they're a good company to work for."

"Yeah, the manager said I can probably transfer to a different store when I leave for college."

Puck's glad he just put a spoonful of soup in his mouth after finishing the statement, because otherwise, he would have let his jaw drop. Where did that come from? Sure, his manager _had_ said that, but.

He didn't realize was planning to leave for college.

Obviously, he was. Is.

"Of course," his mom manages to reply smoothly, but Puck can hear the note of surprise in her voice. Hell, if he were her, he'd be surprised, too. Really surprised. "Do you have plans tonight?"

"Some of us are going to see a movie. I'll probably be leaving in an hour or so."

"All right. Be back by midnight, please?"

"Okay, okay. I have to work in the morning, anyway."

"Oh? That's where you've been?"

Puck nods. "Saturdays six to two-thirty, Mondays and Wednesdays three until close. Which is nine, but that means leaving around nine-fifteen or so. It's twenty hours a week."

"Does that mean you get free coffee?" Hannah pipes up.

"Actually, yeah," Puck grins. "One drink a shift. And a pound a week to bring home."

"Oh?" His mom tries to sound disinterested, but Puck knows she definitely is interested.

"Yep. I'll bring some home tomorrow, okay?" Puck raises one eyebrow, amused.

His mom just smiles and nods her thanks.

Puck's a little surprised when it's Kurt that pulls up in front of the apartment building, until he realizes that Mike and Sam are already in the back, and Finn's sitting up front, controlling the radio. "Artie's meeting us there," Finn explains over his shoulder. "But it just didn't make much sense to have Sam or I drive. And Sam was already over at Mike's house."

Puck nods and settles down into one of the seats in the back. "Cool."

The ride to the movie theatre is short, and Puck pays for his ticket and then stands in line for some popcorn and a drink. He doesn't say anything to any of them, but damn. It feels really good to have his own money. It feels good to work, even, and to know he's getting paid for what he's accomplishing.

Go figure.

Puck ends up between Kurt on one side and Sam on the other, and about twenty minutes into the movie he notices that he's become the one being mooched off of. He remembers Kurt only buying a drink, but not why he didn't buy anything else. Puck just shrugs. He likes to get the really big buckets because they're the best deal, anyway, and he never finishes them. Usually he takes the leftovers home to Hannah, but it tastes better fresh, so it makes sense for Kurt to eat it if he wants it.

Puck isn't consciously aware that he starts timing when he'll reach for a bite to coincide with when Kurt reaches in, and he doesn't quite register that he's deliberately letting his hand brush against Kurt's. It's so little and subtle that he truly doesn't make a note of it.

When the movie is over, Finn suggests they go down and across the street to grab a milkshake, which they do, along a huge order of fries to share. They sit there, laughing and joking, until nearly eleven, and Puck's irrationally pleased that they all get along so well, that no one, including himself or Finn, unfortunately, has an issue with Kurt being there and being one of the guys. He's also irrationally pleased at how happy he himself feels to have friends, friends that don't put the same weight of expectations on him that he's always felt before.

When Kurt drops him off first, on the way to Mike's, where Sam left his car, Puck's in a great mood, despite knowing he's going to get way too little sleep. He doesn't check his text messages or voicemail before letting himself fall asleep, alarm set for the next morning.


	4. Chapter 4

Puck's still not used to waking up so early any morning, much less on a Saturday morning, and this week, his manager wants him there at 5:30, so he has to wake up at 5 am. Five hours of sleep does not feel good, but walking through the still-cool April night helps wake him up, and a cup of coffee by 6:15 finishes the job. He thinks he's learning the job well, and he picks up coffee to take home to his mom, who will be excited.

He calls Lauren later, after he remembers he hasn't talked to her in a few days, and just sighs when she doesn't answer or return his call. When he's around Lauren, he remembers why he likes her and why he's pursuing her. She's a great friend, and he's never tried having a friend that turned into something more. People say it's a good plan. She also can really kiss, and he wonders if sex with her would finally be satisfying.

That's the thing about sex. People act like he's some kind of manwhore, but he's just looking for sex the way other people describe it. Even in the immediate afterglow of an orgasm, it's never been enough. He's always been looking for the next person or the next thrill, trying to fly really high and have a truly great experience. Sure, he likes getting off, but up until this point, the best times he's ever had have all been with his hand.

He went through a time when he thought he just sucked at sex, but after extensive reading and studying (of online sites and various porn and even, okay, he did read a book or two. Because it's sex.), he's come to realize that it's not him. It's just that none of the partners he's had so far have really known how to satisfy him.

Maybe, he hopes, Lauren will be the one to do that. And that, in the end, is why he is going along with her Prom Queen campaign. He wants to find out. Surely a Prom Queen will have sex with her Prom King?

 

Lauren finally calls him back on Sunday and suggests they meet up and have a slice of pizza around lunchtime. Then she bails, and Puck walks around Lima for half an hour before the phone rings and Mike invites him over for a Wiiathon. He, Sam, and Mike spend most of the afternoon on the "Wiiathon" and then Puck heads home, thanks to a ride from Sam.

"Yay! Noah's home!" rings out as soon as he enters the apartment, and he raises an eyebrow.

"What's up?"

"Mom said we couldn't order dinner until you got home and told us what you wanted."

"Oh." Puck shrugs. "The usual stuff is good. Just make sure you remember the extra spring rolls, Mom," he calls towards the dining room, where she's sitting at the table.

"All right," she responds, and Puck can hear her pick up the phone to dial. He sits down on the couch next to Hannah.

"What're you watching?"

"Re-runs."

Puck glances at the television screen. "Isn't this a little old for you?"

"No. Rebecca watches it with her older sister all the time."

"Oh, well, with that endorsement…" Puck rolls his eyes and changes the channel over her protests, finally leaving it on a _Simpsons_ re-run instead.

"Nooo-ah."

"Deal with it, squirt."

Puck laughs along with the Simpsons until the doorbell rings with the Chinese food, and then helps his mom divide it between the three of them before she decides that the call of Simpsons re-runs is stronger than the call of all of them eating around the table together. Puck remembers why he does love his family, small though it may be.

 

Puck's a little surprised when Kurt walks into glee club on Monday with a tootsie pop in his mouth and another in his hand, and even more surprised when Kurt crosses the room and hands the other one to Puck. "Ms. Pillsbury. You should drop by and see her when you have a free period, today or tomorrow."

"What?"

Kurt just shrugs. "SAT scores, I think. She told me to give you that one." He smiles slightly, but Puck's pretty sure it's one of those actual pleased smiles that Kurt doesn't actually smile very often. Puck figures that means Kurt did well, so that's good. Maybe the tootsie pop means Puck did well, too. Or maybe it means Puck did so dismally that he needs a tootsie pop to cheer him up.

Ms. Pillsbury _did_ think that a nooner was a dessert, after all.

The usual suspects have prepared a song for the first day of the week, with a couple of exceptions. Santana's usually not so eager to perform first. Puck tries to pay attention, but he’s a little tired and distracted, so he doesn’t note much more than the fact that Rachel sings yet another song from Broadway.

Puck thinks about skipping class to talk to Ms. Pillsbury, but decides he'll just wait until his free period the next day, and goes to class before heading to work. Lauren calls while he's at work, but then she's snippy when he calls her back during his dinner break, and he ends up hanging up feeling frustrated. He doesn't know what she wants, and he's starting to wonder what he wants, really.

His mom is waiting up when he gets home from work. "Did you have a good day, Noah?"

"S'a'right," Puck replies with a shrug. "Work wasn't too bad. School was school."

"Will you be home for dinner tomorrow?"

"I think so, yeah. Want me to cook?"

"Please. There's a couple of frozen entrees and there's plenty of steak and macaroni and cheese and stuff, too."

"Okay. I'll figure something out," Puck agrees, and then heads towards the bathroom when his mom doesn't bring up another topic of conversation. It's almost like she's waiting for him to tell her something, but he doesn't have any idea of what that something might be, so. Yeah. He'll just go take a shower and tackle his homework.

Puck barely remembers to stop to see Ms. Pillsbury during second period. "Kurt said yesterday you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, come in, Noah." Puck walks in and drops into a chair, then raises his eyebrow questioningly. "Have you looked at your scores yet?"

"My scores?" Puck furrows his brow. "Oh, the SAT thing? No."

"You did quite well," Ms. Pillsbury replies, beaming. "I knew you had an aptitude for math, Noah, but this was impressive." She slides a piece of paper towards him, where she's written what Puck are assumes are his scores.

 _CR 550  
M 710  
W 640  
Total: 1900_

"Nineteen hundred? That's good?"

"It's excellent, Noah. There are kids who get into schools like New York University or Boston University with scores like that."

Puck blinks and swallows, because really. Really?

"Of course, your GPA is a little lower than some of those schools… but Noah, you really have a chance to decide where you want to go."

 _A chance to decide where you want to go. A chance to decide where you want to go._

The words repeat in his brain, louder and louder with each repetition, and he can tell that Ms. Pillsbury is waiting for a reaction.

All he can squeak out is "Really?"

"Really." Ms. Pillsbury reaches into her desk and pulls out a file folder. "I've put some information in here about schools you might want to think about, as well as some web links. Spend a little time with it, okay, and come see me again next week sometime." She hands him the folder and he slides it straight into his backpack without looking at it.

He nods dumbly and manages to imply that yes, he'll come back after he's had time to read through the information and look at the websites. Then he escapes and heads to class, still a little dazed.

They're leaving glee club that afternoon when Finn suggests that Puck come over for video games.

"Can't, promised Mom I'd cook tonight. Rain check?"

"After dinner, then?"

"Cool," Puck nods. "See you around seven?"

"Great," Finn grins and then heads down the hall towards Quinn, and Puck heads out the door for the short walk home.

He decides to go with his mom's suggestion, throwing two steaks on the George Foreman and making a huge pot of macaroni and cheese. When his mom gets home, she makes him throw together a tossed salad, too, and they all sit down to eat. His mom is surprisingly cool with him going to Finn's, and even offers to let him take her car, which he happily accepts.

Kurt wanders into the room after Puck's been there for an hour or so, reading some kind of magazine and occasionally tossing hints at Finn's back. Finn ignores most of them, even when they're good hints, and Puck decides maybe he'll start listening to some of them. Finn loses a round and tosses the controller at Puck, then heads towards the kitchen.

"So," Puck says after a minute. "How'd you do? I mean. Were you happy with it?"

"Hmm?"

"The SAT things."

"Oh." Kurt closes his magazine. "Yes. I won't have to take them again. How about you?"

"I… think I did well." Puck shrugs. "I don't know what they mean."

Kurt looks at him carefully. "What did Ms. Pillsbury say about them?"

"Well, uh. She said that if my grades were higher, I could maybe get in someplace like NYU with them."

Kurt drops his magazine. "Just how well did you do, Puck?"

"Uh. 1900."

Puck's pretty sure that Kurt's jaw just dropped, and he doesn't respond for a moment. "Huh. Uncharted depths."

"So it is good?"

"I got a 2080, if that's what you're asking."

Puck just blinks. "You're like, crazy smart."

Kurt snorts. "Not in math."

"But still," Puck insists.

"Obviously you're either not applying yourself or you get better grades than you let on." Puck shifts uncomfortably. "Or both," Kurt adds with a smirk.

"Probably both," Puck finally admits.

Kurt rolls his eyes and picks up his magazine, the conversation seemingly closed as Finn reenters the room.

 

The next day during Puck's free period, he holes up in a quiet corner of the school and looks at the folder that Ms. Pillsbury gave him. There's a little bit about different scores and auditions and he mostly skims that, looking instead at the slim pamphlets of glossy paper, cities likes New York and Boston and San Francisco. Places that Puck never dreamed of going, not even as far as Chicago or Minneapolis or Denver or Santa Fe. There are at least twelve of them, colorful and bright, with little post-it notes where Ms. Pillsbury has pointed things out, and Puck's breath catches because this–this is nothing he ever dreamt of.

Farther in the folder is a little note from Ms. Pillsbury about financial aid and how she can't make any promises, but based on his grades and a general idea of single-parent families, it's likely he would qualify for grants, not just loans.

Which also sounds pretty awesome, because loans sound suspiciously like things you have pay back, and he doesn't want to _owe_ anyone anything.

Beyond that, finally, is another note, about what he might like to consider majoring in. That she knows he's good at math, but of course there are some good music programs. He goes back to look at a few of the pamphlets, reading the list of things that each school offers.

He's looking at the pamphlet for a school in Boston when he sees it, and if asked, he would swear up and down that he stopped breathing for a few minutes.

No one ever tells him important things, he can't help but think. If he'd known this? Well, he can't swear it would have changed that much, not at some points in the past, but now. Now he knows.

There's actually something out there for someone like him.

 

Lauren corners him at the beginning of lunch. "Are we going out on Friday?"

"Uh, sure," Puck shrugs. "If you want to."

"I'm getting a little tired of driving, Puckerman."

"I'm sorry?" Puck offers, thoughts half-stuck on that folder of shiny pamphlets.

"Why do I have to drive all the time? It's not _my_ fault you don't have a car. Do you even still have your license?"

"Yes!" Puck protests. "But we only have one car. We've _always_ only had one car." He shrugs. "I can ask Mom if I can use it Friday night, I don't think she has anything planned."

"Good." Lauren sniffs. "Text me for details about where to pick me up. Otherwise, don't bother." She stalks away, a pile of Prom Queen posters tucked under her arm.

 

The next day during his free period, Puck knocks quietly on Ms. Pillsbury's open door, and she gestures him inside. "Noah. Did you have a chance to look at the folder I gave you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." Puck clutches the strap of his backpack almost convulsively. "I, uh. I didn't know. That you could major in some of this stuff. I thought it was all just, like, English or history or business or whatever." He takes a deep breath. "No one ever said you could go to school to write music."

"You write music?"

"I wrote the music for one of the songs that we won Regionals with. No one knows it was me." Puck sits down and reaches into his backpack. "I have three binders full of makeshift staff paper, and my mom bought me this a few weeks ago and it's, like, three-quarters full now, so I really need to go buy a new one this weekend after I get paid." He meets Ms. Pillsbury's eyes with a little bit of trepidation, but she's just smiling at him, looking encouraging. "I had an English teacher say that writers just had to write. Well, I'm not good at words, but music, that's what it's like, I have to write it. I've studied a little bit on my own but I just… write it down."

Ms. Pillsbury nods again. "So you noticed that you can major in composition at some of these schools?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I mean, I know it's probably some kind of crazy long-shot, but like… I could get out of here _and_ I could write songs and that's… " He drops his head, unable to meet her eyes any longer. "It doesn't seem real."

"It is," she says softly after a long pause. "I'll do a more specialized search. You mentioned getting out of here. Is there any place you'd prefer over another?"

"Yeah, the coasts, east or west," Puck admits. "I mean. I'm sure there are good schools in the Midwest, everyone says there are, but I need to leave."

She nods, making a few notes. "Okay. Can you come by during this period on Tuesday? And let's make sure your grades for the end of this year are as high as you can bring them, all right. Are there any classes where you're having trouble?"

Puck shrugs. "English, like always."

"Who do you have?"

"Mr. Connors."

"I'll talk to him and see if there's anything extra that can be done to bring that grade up." She smiles brightly just as the bell rings. "I'll do what I can to help you, Noah."

Puck stands, nodding. "Yeah. That's awesome. Thanks, Ms. P. Really."

 

When Mr. Schue asks anyone has a song to performance, Puck's fingers close around the neck of his guitar as he stands and walks to the front of the room. "Yeah, this is called 'What About Everything?'"

He strums the opening chords, settling on a stool before starting to sing the first words.

He can't resist a look at Lauren midway through the verse. _From a life of tests where something's always at stake, Where something's always so far, What about my broken car? What about my life so far? What about my dream?_

He loses himself in the chorus, singing the words clearly, then transitions back into the verse.

 _Before time takes each year, like a knife cuts it clear  
It's school then work and then life that just sharpens the blade  
I think about time for fun  
I think about time for play  
Then I think about being done, with no resume  
With no one left to blame  
What about fortune and fame?_

He's pouring himself into the song, not meeting anyone's eyes now, grateful to have heard the song playing over the radio at work two weeks ago.

 _What about aliens? What about you and me and…  
What about gold beneath the sea?  
What about…  
What about when buildings fall?  
What about that midnight phone call…  
The one that wakes you from your peace?_

Puck lifts his head as he sings the last line, voice clear.

 _Well, I am not, I am not, I am not in need._

The last notes echo in the room, and there's utter silence for just a few beats before the clapping begins. Rachel stands up, and Puck's eyes widen as Mercedes as then the rest of the girls stand as well, still clapping, and Kurt joins them from his spot in the back row, and Mike rises as well, though Puck's pretty sure that's because of the look Tina shot him.

"That was such a… genuine performance, Puck," Mr. Schue says, nodding. "Very powerful."

Puck just nods. "Thanks," he mumbles, and takes his seat.

Quinn stands a few moments later and sings Sheryl Crow's "Summer Day" that appears directed at Finn, who smiles uncomfortably, and then Mr. Schue starts talking about Nationals and how they need to start thinking of songs for Nationals, but he doesn't want to hear any yet, which Puck thinks privately is kind of stupid.

 

Friday morning, Puck asks if he can take the car, promising to come pick both of them up in the afternoon before dinner, and his mom acquiesces without much protest. As soon as Puck gets out of class for the day, he leaves, even though technically he shouldn't unless he's going to work.

Then again, he is going _by_ work, to pick up his paycheck.

He deposits most of it, keeping out some cash, and then driving towards the mall. He parks in front of the AT&T store and grins. _Fucking finally._ He makes sure to lock his mom's car and heads inside.

It takes nearly an hour, but he leaves the store about $350 poorer, with a monthly bill to boot, but resting in his front pocket is a _phone_ , one that can do shit and get email and let him watch videos on it and all of that. He's pretty sure he'll end up spending a little too much money in the App Store, but he'll try to keep the total down.

There's a lot of free apps, anyway.

Finn texts him just after he's climbed back in the car, inviting him over after dinner, and Puck immediately texts back a 'yes' followed by informing Lauren that he can only get the car on Saturday evening. Not exactly true, but he's pretty sure his mom would like the car in the evening since he had it all day.

He heads over to pick up Hannah first, saying hello to his old fifth grade teacher, who's running after-school that day, and convincing Hannah that yes, she really has to sit in the "stupid booster" for another two months, because her brother doesn't need a ticket. They go to pick up his mom after that, and he asks her both about walking to Finn's after dinner and using the car the next night. She sighs a little about the car, but ultimately agrees, so after they get home, he offers to make dinner.

"I have everything for chicken a la king," his mom notes, and Puck nods, pulling out the cans of soup, carrots, and peas.

"Chicken already cooked?"

"Yes, and frozen, you'll just need to thaw it."

Puck thaws the chicken in the microwave while he empties the six cans of condensed soup and then adds the carrots and peas to the pot on the stove. Chicken thawed, he tosses it in to warm and stirs it a few times before starting to toast some bread.

The entire pot is gone within thirty minutes, and Hannah's pressed into clean-up duty, leaving Puck free to start walking towards Finn's house. When he arrives, Finn is the only one there, already lounging on the couch with two bags of chips on the coffee table.

"Dude," Finn nods.

"S'up."

“Grab a bag, man,” Finn says, pointing at the chips.

“Thanks.” Puck slumps down into the recliner and pops the bag open.

“So where you been,” Finn asks, before cramming a handful of chips into his mouth. “I haven’t seen you around much lately,” he adds through his half-chewed mouthful.

“Got a job,” Puck says with a shrug.

“Seriously? Good for you, man! Where at?”

“The Starbucks down in the lobby at the hospital. It’s pretty cool. Free coffee. And,” Puck brightens, reaching into his pocket. “Cell phone service discounts.” He puts his new phone down on the table with a flourish.

“Sweet! You got Angry Birds yet?” Finn picks up the phone and sifts through the Apps. “Oh hey, do you get free muffins? ‘Cause I love those muffins.”

“No free muffins. Sorry, dude. And nah, I just got it this afternoon. The dude recommended some thing called Shazam, that’s pretty sweet.”

“The music one?” Finn asks. “I think Kurt has that. He’s always holding his phone up to things and telling me to ‘shh for a minute, for goodness sake’. Except for sometimes he makes _me_ hold it up, because I can reach the speakers better.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, that one. And you can reach the speakers better than, like, anyone, right?”

“Not everyone,” Finn muses. “Most people in Ohio, I think.”

“Except for in Cleveland, I think NBA players are still taller than you by at least an inch or so.”

“I’m taller than that one guy, at least. You know, that one shorter guy.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s true,” Puck nods, taking a handful of chips. “But yeah. Working. Money’s kind of nice, y’know.”

“Yeah, I remember how that was,” Finn said. “Anything I earn now is having to go into savings, though. College coming up in a year, right? Can’t make mom and Burt pay for that.”

“Yeah, well, no way Mom can afford to pay for me, so I either get financial aid or I’m screwed,” Puck shrugs.

Finn looks a little surprised, but to his credit, only a little. “Yeah? You looking at colleges?”

“Did you know they actually have schools where they, like, teach you how to write music?”

“That’s awesome, dude,” Finn says. “You want to write music?”

Puck smirks. “You’ve sung to something I wrote.”

“I didn’t sing along to ‘Big Ass Heart,’ bro, sorry. I mean, it was catchy and all...”

“Not that, numbskull.”

“What?” Finn knits his eyebrows together, obviously trying to think of any occasion when he’s sung a song Puck could have written. “You didn’t have anything to do with ‘My Headband’ did you?” He winks at Puck.

“What in the fuck is My Headband, or do I not want to know?”

“You really don’t.”

“You remember that mysterious pile of sheet music...”

“Holy shit!” Finn says, raising his hand up in the air like he has the answer and would like Puck to please call on him so he can give it. “That was _you_?”

Puck just smirks again. “That was me.”

“Badass, man. That song kicked serious butt.”

“I can’t write lyrics for shit, but.” Puck shrugs, obviously pleased.

“You aren’t the only one,” Finn says. “You didn’t hear the songs Rachel wrote _before_ the one she did at Regionals.”

“Yeah, but I bet she didn’t have to rhyme ‘tickets’ with ‘rickets’ like I did,” Puck laughs.

“That was my favorite part,” Finn confesses.

“And that is why you will never be a music critic,” Puck intones in a fake announcer voice.

Finn chuckles. “Seriously, though, dude. College _and_ song writing? That’s so awesome.”

“I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Don’t be such so gloom and doom, man,” Finn says. “Don’t you think maybe the other shoe dropped already and now you’re just getting, like, paid back for all the other crap that’s already happened?”

“Like karma or something? I dunno if it works that way.”

“Me either,” Finn says, “but I hope so. I think if you take enough crap, you should get something good when it’s all over.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Puck agrees. “By that logic, we should win Nationals, ‘cause we get a lot of crap here in Lima.”

“Totally. We’ll win Nationals because we get a lot of crap _and_ because we’re the best,” Finn says, with a huge grin. “Got it in the _bag_.”

“From your lips to the judges’ ears.”

“Amen, dude.”

“So. We watching or playing?”

“Playing, definitely,” Finn says, tossing a controller to Puck.


	5. Chapter 5

Puck's tired by the time work is over the next day, so he crashes for a nap before getting up and showering. Lauren said she wanted to go to Steak N Shake, so he double-checks his wallet and changes his shirt. Lauren'll probably insult it, whatever he wears, but hey, at least he's sort of making an effort.

He picks Lauren up five minutes before she said to be there, which is an acceptable time for her, and drives straight to Steak N Shake. Lauren orders for both of them, which makes Puck roll his eyes before changing his order, because in his opinion, milkshakes? Are chocolate. Not fruity flavors, not vanilla, and not anything with chunks. Chocolate.

Lauren rolls her eyes in return, and they spend the time waiting for their food bickering over what should and shouldn't be in a milkshake. It's a spirited discussion, to put it kindly, and Lauren grins at him when the food arrives and they drop it, but Puck feels less exhilarated and more drained by the entire thing.

After they finish eating, they walk over to the mall because Lauren wants to get something at Bath & Body Works and Hot Topic, both. Puck tries to stray into GameStop or even just Spencer's but Lauren makes him stand in the Bath & Body Works store, which frankly stinks. Literally, that is, and he's not interested in the Men's line, no matter how many times the old lady managing the store tries to entice him with a Twilight-themed scent. Lauren would probably dig it, yeah, but… no. Just no. He does buy new handsoap for he and Hannah's bathroom, because smelling like plain coconut is all right with both of them.

They share a cinnamon roll after Lauren finishes her shopping, and then Puck drives her home. They make out for about five minutes before Lauren pulls away and leaves the car with a slight wave. Puck sighs heavily and waits until she's inside her house before starting the car again and driving slowly home. He's glad that when he gets home, both his mom and Hannah are already asleep. He puts the new soap in the bathroom and falls into bed, deliberately not setting any sort of alarm and putting up a do not disturb sign before ever falling asleep.

The end result is that it's after 10 the next morning before he emerges from his bed, and nearly noon before he opens the door and claims a bowl of cereal and the television, absently flipping through the channels to find some baseball.

"Good morning, Noah," his mom says dryly, and Puck just waves and mumbles a good morning around a mouthful of cereal. "Did you have a nice time last night?

Puck shrugs and swallows. "Guess so."

"That's not very enthusiastic."

Puck just shrugs again. "Tell Hannah not to use all the soap in the bathroom in one week, okay?"

"You bought more?"

"Yeah."

"All right, I'll try to remind her."

"Thanks." Puck turns back to his cereal, overly interested the ripples his spoon makes in the milk. He doesn't want to talk about Lauren, but his mom obviously wants to talk… "Hey, Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I got those SAT scores back."

"Oh?" She sits down beside him and mutes the TV. "How'd you do?"

"Uh. Good, apparently."

"Apparently?"

"Well, I don't really know, but Ms. Pillsbury said they're good, and I was talking to Kurt, Finn's stepbrother, and he's like, wicked smart, and his score was higher than mine but, like, not as much as everyone would probably expect."

"Noah, what kind of score did you get?" She sounds curious, with a little bit of an edge, like she wants him to just tell her already. So he does.

"Nineteen hundred."

"Noah!"

"What?!"

"Are you serious?"

"… Yeah."

"Maybe you can even get a scholarship at some place like OSU!"

"I'm not going to stay in Ohio," Puck blurts out, not really thinking about cushioning that statement, and his mom stops short.

"What do you mean? It's in-state tuition, and…"

"And I don't want to stay in Ohio," Puck replies, more firmly. "I've never wanted to stay here, Mom. This just means, I dunno. I have a better chance at leaving."

"Well." She takes a couple of breaths. "Have you at least thought about what you'd want to study? Because leaving just to leave isn't–"

"Music composition," Puck answers shortly. "And the good schools are not in Ohio."

"I'm pretty sure that University of Cincinnati is excellent for music," she retorts, but Puck just rolls his eyes.

"Look, I probably won't get in. They'll take a look at my grades from my freshman year and throw my application out, and I'll end up stuck at OSU-Lima. Happy?" Puck stands up and stalks into the kitchen, pouring himself a second bowl of cereal.

"No, and don't talk to me that way! I'm sure you'll do fine, I just wish you'd reconsider going farther away. You know Hannah would miss you–"

"I'd still be gone, Mom. There's always Skype and phone calls and sh–stuff. And the further away I go, the more reason you have to move into one of the two bedrooms downstairs. Which you really should do, because it'd be cheaper."

"And where would you stay when you came home at Thanksgiving?"

"On the couch," Puck shrugs. "Or the floor or whatever. It's cool. Seriously, Mom."

"Let's just table this discussion for now," she finally concedes, lips pressed into a tight smile, and Puck nods.

"Sure. I'm gonna go shower."

"Okay. I'm taking Hannah to a birthday party at two, we'll be back around five."

"'Kay." Puck scoops up the last spoonfuls of cereal and puts his bowl in the dishwasher before heading towards the bathroom.

The shower ends up being kind of depressing, because he wants to jerk off, but he's having a hard time holding any particular image in his head. Finally he just imagines kissing, not a specific person, just kissing, tongues thrusting against each other, as his hand slides up and down his cock. He doesn't understand why none of his usual fantasies are doing it for him, but then, none of them ever work all that well, just enough to get him started. He imagines another set of hands running over him, palms pressing against his ass, fingers prodding gently at his muscles. It's enough, and Puck comes into his hand, the shower washing it away almost as soon as it appears. Puck puts a hand against the wall to support himself and grimaces, turning the water cooler.

He doesn't know what's wrong with him lately, but he wants to push it down as much as possible.

 

Tuesday morning finds him at Ms. Pillsbury's office again. "Come in, Noah, I have some good news."

"Yeah?"

"I talked to Mr. Connors and he said you could do an extra paper or project, before the end of the year, and he'll raise your final grade one whole letter grade."

Puck just stares. "That's a lot."

"Yes, well," Ms. Pillsbury smiles, "He insisted your extra paper or project show good effort, but it doesn't have to be a paper, it could be a film or some kind of digital media project, for instance."

"Oh, okay." Puck shrugs. "Cool."

"I have to run in just a few minutes, but I pulled a few more things together for you." She hands him another folder. "Why don't you take awhile to look at this and then get back with me after a week or two?"

"Yeah, okay," Puck nods, "I'll just go ahead and go, then," he gestures towards the door.

"Thanks for stopping by, Noah."

"Yeah, thank you."

Puck wanders absently down the hall and finds an isolated corner, staring at the folder for awhile without opening it. He reaches in blindly and pulls out one pamphlet, reading through it slowly. It's for a place called the New England Conservatory of Music, and he thinks about how funny that sounds, him at a place called a "Conservatory." Somehow he's not so sure he'd fit in one of these schools, as appealing as they sound. They look stuffy, and as he reads further, he realizes that most people applying have had–well, they've had formal lessons and a bunch of stuff that costs money, money his family has never had. Puck taught himself how to play guitar when he was just ten, because a guitar was the cheapest thing. He cobbled together how to play the piano by sneaking into the music room throughout middle school, sometimes unlocking the door after football practice, when no one was around but the janitor. The closest he's ever had to formal lessons is Mr. Schue coaching glee club, and if that's not a joke, well.

How can he possibly think he can compete?

He flips the front of the folder open, and apparently Ms. Pillsbury has anticipated this reaction, because there's a long typed note about ignoring some of the requirements, that the admission committees know that not everyone has the same opportunities, especially when you don't live in or near a large city.

And, by the way, when he comes back to see her, she'd like to talk about setting up AP Music Theory for him for the fall, plus they should really talk about dual enrollment.

What. the. actual. fuck.

Him?

Puck thinks Ms. Pillsbury may be mixing him up with some other kid. Or she hit her head. Or her lack of sex has pushed over the edge. Something.

But she seems to realize it's him. Have an actual idea of what's possible.

So Puck slides the folder into his backpack and heads to class, and lets himself dream a little.

 

Thursday night, Finn invites Puck and Sam to come play video games, but Sam insists he can't for some mysterious reason. Puck shows up after dinner and they play for awhile before switching to a movie around the time Kurt comes home from somewhere.

"Sup."

"Hello, Puck." Kurt walks quietly into the room. "What's on?"

"Ghostbusters."

"Oh, fun." Kurt drops into the chair. "Mind if I watch?"

"Sure," Finn nods. "Where'd you go?"

"Oh." Kurt purses his lips. "Just… helping out a friend." He looks away hurriedly, seemingly engrossed in the movie.

"That's cool," Puck says into the weird silence that descends, and Finn eventually nods, Kurt still not looking anywhere but the television. Puck's pretty sure that Ghostbusters isn't that exciting, but whatever.

 

The next morning, Puck's just standing by the piano in the choir room when half the club just starts erupting. Finn's yelling at both Quinn and Sam, Santana's yelling at Brittany, and it all apparently is because of the school newspaper.

Puck didn't realize they even had a school newspaper.

He manages to gather that Finn thinks Sam and Quinn are doing something together, that Quinn's cheating on him. Which really would be karma, right? Because Quinn's a cheater, and Finn helped her cheat one of the times.

Except that means someone should cheat on Puck, too, so maybe he's not down with the karma thing so much anymore.

Santana's talking about playing for the other team, and Puck's not stupid, he knows what Santana is protesting being labeled and he wonders why she thinks it's a secret. Sure, he guesses, it is, but it's a little bit like before Kurt came out. Everyone _knew_. It's not like if, say, Mike were to announce he was gay. Or Karofsky or somebody.

Puck avoids Lauren all weekend, going to work and then seeing a movie with the other five guys from glee club on Saturday, and catching up on homework on Sunday, trying to figure out a good project to bring up his English grade. A good English grade, Ms. Pillsbury's notes say, would bring up his chances more than any other class, since his math grades are already high and in advanced classes.

He wants to get out.

 

Having April Rhodes back to sing is kind of awesome, and Puck _does_ like Fleetwood Mac. Hearing all the weird rumors about Sam is, well, weird. Apparently he and Lauren don't have a couple name. Or do they? Maybe he's heard Pizes. Yeah, Pizes sounds kind of cool and Lauren seems to like it but it seems pretty… uneven. Why not Zuck?

Puck is pretty sure that this week of rumors and Rumours is dumb. Quinn and Finn are singing a duet and Puck's never seen Finn look more unhappy to be singing, especially not with his girlfriend. Puck just watches their performance and tries not to let his skepticism show on his face.

Rachel corners him as he's leaving the choir room. "Noah. I thought about singing 'Go Your Own Way' tomorrow. Can you do the guitar for that?"

"Yeah, absolutely," Puck nods. "Same basic arrangement as the album?"

"Exactly!" Rachel beams and walks away.

Puck wonders if maybe he should have a special text sound on his phone. Like a bat-text, except for when someone in glee decides that they need him to play guitar. Otherwise, he's going to have to start wandering the halls with guitar in hand.

After Rachel's performance the next day, everyone starts pestering Sam, and yeah, Puck's part of that. It's bad enough to go after just one person, but it's like Sam can't decide, and has to go after two. The more the merrier, maybe? So yeah, he calls Sam out of his behavior. Quinn and Kurt both have boyfriends, for fuck's sake.

The walk to Starbucks is colder than it's been, Ohio's weather taking a step backwards, towards winter, and Puck shivers in the wind. He's extraordinary grateful to slip into the warm store and claim a cup of coffee as he starts work.

He's been at work for an hour and a half when he hears a familiar voice. "Well. Hello."

"Kurt. Hey."

"I didn't know you worked here."

"Yeah, I started like, a month ago?" Puck shrugs. "Not many people from school come in here."

"Yes, well. There are all sorts of wonderful whispers around the Lima Bean." Kurt leans closer, whispering. "And I have a weakness for both red velvet and the whoopie pie in general, so."

Puck laughs. "So you want a couple of those and…"

"White chocolate mocha, extra whipped cream, lid on the side."

"Oh, you're one of those." Puck nods and rings Kurt up. "You eat the whipped cream off the top."

"Guilty as charged."

Puck busies himself making Kurt's drink before he speaks again. "So, uh, like. Sorry, dude. I mean, you know."

Kurt just chuckles for a second. "Thank you, I think. Though it's probably Sam you should be addressing. I was, after all, merely the recipient of his purported affections."

"Hey, I wouldn't blame you. Objectively speaking, I mean." Puck shrugs.

"What?" Kurt looks at him incredulously.

"I mean, you know." Puck raises his hands up, palms facing Kurt. "I'm just saying, if you had to pick between Sam and Blaine, just, I wouldn't blame you for picking Sam."

Kurt guffaws for a moment, shaking his head. "I do not understand your mind, Puck."

"Few do."

"I would imagine so." Kurt scoops the whipped cream with one finger and pops it in his mouth. "So, since you're here. I was thinking about doing 'Second Hand News.' Finn said he'd get the drum part for me. You seem pretty familiar with Fleetwood Mac."

"Yeah. I like that one. Great beat. Sure. I'm going to add a bat-text for when people want me to play."

"Well, you can improvise well. People appreciate that."

"Yeah, I guess." Puck shoots Kurt a smile and then turns towards the counter. "Listen, I gotta–"

"No, no, I'm sorry. See you tomorrow, Puck."

"See ya."

 

During "Don't Stop," the rest of the guys decide to lift Sam up, and after Kurt steals away Sam's guitar, Puck and Mike lift Sam up onto their shoulders, Finn helping make sure Sam doesn't tumble backwards.

Sam's not really that heavy, so it's pretty easy to keep him in place, one hand around his leg and the other around his ankle, but after a few moments, Puck can't help frowning. His mind flashes to the conversation he had with Kurt the day before and something just feels _weird_. He's really relieved when they put Sam back onto the stage and finish the song.

He's used to touching other guys, in football practice, but there's something different, almost intimate. He touches other guys in violence and aggression, in competition and in asserting rank. This is supportive and warm, not harsh, despite the weight on his shoulder.

Sometimes he puts Hannah on his shoulders, but this is different, and not just because Sam's heavier. The feel of Sam's leg under his hand, rough and solid, is almost alien, but at the same time, it's not at all alien, not at all uncomfortable.

His hands on another boy, lifting him up, setting him down, it all feels strange and makes his head swirl, and as they troop back to the choir room, he pushes it all down, ruthlessly, focusing on the music he's about to play and the favor he needs to ask. He doesn't have time to wonder, or the energy.

It will have to wait.

 

[Perfect Gift](http://archiveofourown.org/works/229130)

 

Puck's contribution to Lauren's prom queen campaign is to keep track of the polls and statistics, and to parrot her campaign slogans and sound bites when necessary. "Intimidation and fear" is one of her favorites, and, really, one of his, too.

The comments that Ben Israel throws at him make him scowl, first angry and pissed off, and then just confused. How did everything come to this?

He spends what feels the rest of the day with his arms crossed, unimpressed with the world. A little bit unimpressed with Lauren. Determined to get through the next week. Maybe then he'll think about things, like the folder he still has to finish reading, so he can talk to Ms. Pillsbury.

Or maybe the other things that he doesn't want to think about at all.

The thing is, he's been good for a long time, but it's starting to catch up with him, and he hasn't gotten slushied in a while either, so maybe it's time to fix his rep. Without actually getting into trouble. It takes awhile, but he gets Artie on board with the plan. This is perfect: low risk, high reward. He doesn't have to actually do anything other than pretend Coach Sylvester is some kind of MILF.

The thought of MILFs makes his stomach churn, and he ends up in the bathroom during history, puking his guts out. Fun times in the life of Noah Puckerman.

 

It’s Wednesday before he notices that he’s been unconsciously avoiding Kurt. The shopping trip was fine, it wasn’t a problem, but no one else at school knows that he has any contact with Shelby at all, and he feels strangely vulnerable. It’s not something he’s used to feeling.

Just get through prom, he keeps telling himself. Go to work, go to school, get through prom.

 

He and Artie and Sam decide over Mr. Schue's exasperated sighs to do "Friday" for prom, so they volunteer to perform something else during rehearsal on Friday. Puck talks the other two into doing "Hurt," and Sam convinces them to do it more like the Johnny Cash cover than the original song. Getting ready for that takes Puck's mind off, well, everything else. Blessed oblivion. He writes three songs on Wednesday night and four more on Thursday, all of them gloomy and depressed, and he can't put a finger on why, but he puts on a good face, barely.

During glee club on Friday, they do their version of "Hurt." Artie takes the first verse, but they sing together on the remaining verses, Sam and Puck blending their guitar chords rather than using a piano. Puck thinks briefly as he's singing that perhaps he's managed to be a little too honest lately with his song choices, but no one else seems to think anything's amiss. Except for Mr. Schuester, who seems to think they picked it for the drug references.

Great.

 

He does exactly what he's supposed to do during prom. He dances with Lauren, though not during the slow songs. He stands up on stage and pretends to want to be prom king, even though he really just wants Lauren to be happy. Karofsky wins prom king, and Puck's really relieved, though he supposes that makes Lauren's chances fall. It probably means Santana will win.

He's the only one of the glee guys on the stage when they announce the winner of prom queen, and he feels frozen. What the _hell_? What idiots did this? He hears loud clapping from the back of the room and glares in its direction before staring dumbfounded at Figgins. What kind of idiot principal announces something like that. An "extensive write-in campaign"? What kind of idiot announces that a bullied kid is prom _queen_ when he's a boy? He just glares at Figgins as Kurt runs out of the gym, and Puck's relieved to see that Blaine rushes after him, though why the hell he called his name out, Puck doesn't know. It's not like everyone needed a reminder of what they just did.

Kurt finally comes back in, looking shaken but his jaw set, and damn if he didn't kind of own it. Karofsky bails, unsurprisingly, and good for Blaine for actually stepping up and doing the right thing. Then they all start dancing while Mercedes and Santana continue singing, and Kurt seems okay. Not great, but okay. Better than Finn, anyway, Puck suspects, because Rachel snags him when he asks why Quinn's by herself and explains what happened. Quinn's gonna be pissed and he doubts that the Hudmel house will be quiet when the brothers get home that evening.

 

Kurt sits on the porch in the darkness, the dim light from the bulb in the fixture not illuminating the corner where he’s slumped against the swing. The neighborhood is silent; the last engine he heard was Blaine’s, headed towards Westerville, nearly twenty minutes earlier.

The familiar chuffle of Finn’s engine pulling into the driveway makes Kurt open his eyes fully, and he shakes himself a little, straightening his back. Finn slams the door on his truck, something he rarely does out of fear of “the whole damn thing coming apart,” and Kurt hears Finn’s loud footsteps stomping up the driveway. Finn’s size 15 dress shoes scuff against the steps as Finn heads towards the front door, not seeing his brother sitting on the corner of the porch.

“They’re asleep,” Kurt calls out softly. “You might want to walk a little more quietly.”

“Jesus,” Finn yelps, jumping. “Didn’t see you sitting there, man!”

“Sorry. I think the bulb’s about to burn out. Lovely evening, isn’t it.” Kurt’s voice is sharp, and the last sentence is far from being a question.

“Yeah, fan-fucking-tastic, I’d say.” Finn comes and sits on one of the porch chairs, the one closest to the swing. “I heard what happened, Kurt. Quinn told me.”

“You mean she told you about how poor, pitiful her didn’t get voted Prom Queen,” Kurt sniffs disdainfully. Normally, he keeps his opinions to himself, but he thinks he’s entitled to _one_ night of being honest, after everything. “No doubt she spared you the details of how she ran off like she was the humiliated one. Santana did, too, apparently.” Kurt just huffs at the end of the sentence.

“Yeah, everyone had a difficult night,” Finn says, vaguely. “But whatever. You. How are you doing with this?”

“I guess they were right, weren’t they,” Kurt spits out bitterly.

“They who?” Finn asks, the confusion on his face plain in even this low light.

“Dad. Blaine.”

“What?” Finn sputters. “No! What do you mean they were _right_? That’s stupid talk.”

“Then again, I probably could have worn the most plain tux ever produced and the same thing would have happened, right?” Kurt sighs, his jaw set. “Fuck this town.”

“Dude, the vote happened before you ever showed up in that tux, which,” Finn says, “by the way, I still think was pretty damn awesome. And you’re right. Fuck this town. Fuck all of those guys. They’re just jealous.”

Kurt laughs, the sound bitter and harsh. “Sure they are. Or they’re just stupid, small-minded people full of hate. Take your pick.”

“They wish they could pull off that look,” Finn states, definitively. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, though. I screwed up. I should have been there to get your back, and I wasn’t.”

“What _happened_ exactly? One minute everyone’s dancing, the next I know Rachel’s cornering me, talking really fast about you and Jesse and a lot of initials.”

“That creep’s lucky he has fast reflexes,” Finn grumbles. “I was trying to rearrange his face.”

“Why, precisely?”

“I guess you didn’t see it, but he had his hands _all over_ her,” Finn spits, with a degree of venom Kurt isn’t used to hearing from his easy-going little brother. “It was just...it was totally inappropriate.”

Kurt gives Finn a sideways look but doesn’t immediately respond.

“And she totally wanted him to get off of her, too,” Finn continues, arguing his case. “I saw her pushing at him, but guys like that, they don’t know what ‘no’ means, you know? Somebody had to say something.”

“Mmmm,” Kurt nods. “And he took offense to that?”

“Like I said, some guys don’t like to hear no.”

“Well. I’m sorry Coach Sylvester threw you out. I didn’t realize there was a zero-tolerance policy for arguing.”

“Might have gone a little past arguing,” Finn mumbles.

“Ohh. I see. How far past?”

“A little shoving. Not a big deal. And I might have...” Finn trails off.

“Might have?” Kurt prompts.

“Taken a swing at him,” Finn sighs. “I guess all that dancing paid off for him though, ‘cause damn, he just ducked right out of the way. I was gonna clean his clock if it’d connected.”

“Oh, Finn,” Kurt sighs. “We’re a mess.”

“I screwed up, Kurt. If I’d been in there, I would have taken care of it.”

“You can’t change that many people’s minds. Apparently it was an _extensive write-in campaign_. Isn’t that lovely?”

“How did that even happen? I didn’t hear anything about it,” Finn says, angrily, aiming a kick at the porch railing. “How’d it slip by the entire glee club?”

“I suspect it was a case of the perpetrators voting early and often. Stuffing the ballot box. But I don’t know. We’re still only thirteen out of the entire class, Finn, and not exactly the most popular thirteen kids, either.”

“You’d just think _one_ of us would have gotten some clue about it,” Finn insists. “I bet the damn hockey team was involved, and you know what, I never did believe all that ‘I’m reformed’ bullshit from Karofsky--”

“No,” Kurt interrupts quickly. “He didn’t know. I _know_ he didn’t know.”

“How can you know that? Not like it would be the first time he lied about something, especially where you’re involved,” Finn argues.

“He didn’t try to tell me he didn’t know, Finn, I could tell.” Kurt falls silent. “I can’t say anything else. Just– _trust_ me on this. I’m sure it wasn’t him. He wanted to win, yes, but he wanted to win with Santana. I’m confident of that.”

Finn sighs, but drops the angry posture. “Ok, if you’re sure. I still have no idea what’s up with him and Santana, but if you’re sure he didn’t have anything to do with this, I’ll let it drop.”

“I’m sure.” Kurt sighs. “More important, perhaps... what we’re going to tell them.” He inclines his head towards the dark house.

“What do you want me to tell them?” Finn asks. “I’ll back up any story you want to tell, but...you know if Burt hears about this, it’s not gonna be pretty.”

“No, it won’t. Which is why he shouldn’t. And I doubt you want your mom knowing you got kicked out of prom, hmm?”

“She isn’t exactly thrilled I’m dating Quinn, so I dunno,” Finn says, with a wry grin. “She might be happy to hear I ruined Quinn’s whole prom experience.”

Kurt laughs, because he’s secretly a little happy about it, too. Only a little bit, but still. “Or she could ground you, on principle.”

“Yeah,” Finn says, his face turning serious. “She might, too. Damn. Ok, so we _don’t_ tell them what really happened. What do we tell them?”

“Well, Karofsky won King, so it would stand to reason that Santana _should_ have won. Quinn was disappointed. Everyone had a nice time. You and Quinn danced a lovely slow dance.” Kurt looks at Finn and raises his eyebrows. “Sound good?”

“What about you?” Finn asks. “I can assure your dad that Blaine was a perfect gentleman and you two didn’t sneak off to a hotel party or anything, right? Wouldn’t want to lie _too much_ , after all.”

Kurt bites back a giggle at the idea of Blaine and he sneaking off to a hotel. “You can tell him we danced to ‘Dancing Queen’ while Mercedes sang. Which is mostly true, in fact. Just leave out the part where I was wearing a crown and holding a scepter, and Karofsky had just run away.”

“Sorry I missed it, bro,” Finn says, sounding genuinely sad. “I bet it was pretty awesome. Did you get to keep the crown?”

“It’s in the back of the Navigator,” Kurt nods. “I thought I’d preserve it for perpetuity.”

“You gotta go put it on so I can see it,” Finn says.

“It’s rather cheaper than the rest of my collection,” Kurt sniffs a little, but does go get it, placing it back on his head and then twirling in place. “Your brother, the prom queen. There’s a story to take to college.”

Finn claps a little when Kurt twirls. “You totally rock that look. I think you should consider wearing it on a regular basis. First Tuesdays or something. In their faces.”

“I was thinking more like rotating through the entire collection. I may just have to run outright next year.”

“Well,” Finn says, dropping his voice in mock secrecy, “don’t tell Quinn, but you’ll totally have my vote. I hate this whole prom king business. Never again!”

“I’ll have to find my king elsewhere, then,” Kurt mock-sighs. “You think Puckerman’s up for a second run?”

“If Lauren didn’t kill him for failing to get her elected this year? Probably. Dude’ll do pretty much _anything_ ,” Finn laughs. “Just question his manhood and he’ll do it to make a point.”

Kurt laughs. “That’s quite a picture.”

“Yeah, you and Puck as prom queen and king. That is pretty much the funniest thing ever.”

“Anything to keep you from the horror of prom king, brother dear.”

“You think you could whip me up one of those Braveheart number next year?” Finn asks. “I have a feeling they’ll be all the rage.”

“Are you going to wear it authentically?”

‘Do I even wanna know what that means?” Finn asks.

“No,” Kurt smirks. “But I’ll tell you anyway. No underwear, Finn.”

“Oh,” Finn says, with a thoughtful look on his face. “Then, totally. I’ll get a second bow tie.”

“It’s a deal,” Kurt manages to say before dissolving into laughter.

“Next year, we should just say screw this whole prom date thing and go stag, anyway. Girls are _crazy_ ,” Finn adds, shaking his head, eyes wide. “Seriously. Prom makes them insane.”

“Ah, therein lies my advantage. No girls.”

“At least you had a nice time with Blaine,” Finn sighs. “So that’s something.”

“Yes.” Kurt doesn’t really want to talk about Blaine’s reaction, how Blaine said it was ‘just a practical joke,’ so he settles for nodding. “And you, um. Learned something important about Quinn?”

“I also learned that Jesse St. James is quicker than he looks. Asshole.” Finn grumbles.

Kurt just nods, not disagreeing with Finn’s assessment.


	6. Chapter 6

Just before glee on Monday morning, Puck walks down the hall with Finn. “I have no idea what to get my mom for Mother’s Day.”

“Um. A card? And...flowers?” Finn looks just as confused as Puck feels.

“Yeah, I do that, like, every year, and it’s all I can get organized for Hannah to get her, so it’d be better if I could figure something different out, you know?”

“What does your mom like?” Finn asks.

“Survivor. Extreme Makeover Home Edition. Uh. Schindler’s List.”

“Is there something, I dunno, Jewish that you can get her?” Finn looks dubious.

“Yeah, I don’t know.” Puck makes a face.

“Sorry, dude,” Finn says, looking chagrined. “Up until my mom and Burt started dating, I just gave her a card and a box of See’s candies every year.”

“And now? Two boxes?” Puck jokes.

“Not this year!” Finn laughs. “Kurt took me to this little shop with all kinds of garden and outdoor stuff, and helped me pick out this copper bird feeder. Mom’s been working on a little garden since we moved to the new place.”

“Yeah? That’s cool. Mom tried that once on the balcony, but the tomatoes all died or something.”

“You oughta get Kurt to recommend something. He’s super good at the shopping thing. He helped me pick out everyone’s Christmas gift this past Christmas,” Finn nods his head along with his words, probably to indicate he’s very serious about Kurt’s gift-picking skills. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind giving you some advice.”

“Wouldn’t that be kind of uncool?”

“Why?” Finn asks, making a very Finn face, which is to say, confused. “He loves shopping.”

“And while I get the idea that he likes your mom a lot, his own mom is dead, dude.”

“Dude, I know that,” Finn says, twisting his mouth up in annoyance. “Doesn’t mean he’s incapable of helping someone else out with their mom. We talked about it before when I asked him for help. He’s cool with it.”

“If you’re sure,” Puck still sounds a little dubious.

“Of course I’m sure,” Finn assures him. “Just make sure you lead in with how bad you are at picking gifts and how you know he’s the best shopper. He likes feeling appreciated, you know? It’s been a rough year for him.”

“Yeah,” Puck agrees. “Did his dad flip out Saturday night?”

“Oh, no way in hell did we tell our parents what happened!” Finn looks scandalized by the very idea.

“What did you tell them? That you had a lovely, quiet evening?” Puck snorts.

“Pretty much. We told them Karofsky and Santana won and skipped the whole Kurt as prom queen thing,” Finn says. “And the whole me getting kicked out of prom thing.” He grins. “Still pissed that Jesse’s so quick. Man, I wanted to smash his face in.”

“He do one of those ducking backwards things?” Puck demonstrates. “Yeah, those suck to fight against.”

“Yes! It was like...like _ninja_ shit,” Finn says, obviously about to get himself all worked up about it. “Probably from all those years of Vocal Adrenaline. If I get another shot at him, though, just you wait and see.”

“Careful, just don’t get kicked out of Nationals or something,” Puck jokes. “Our luck, Vocal Adrenaline will find a way to include him for a fifth year.”

Finn shudders dramatically and makes a face.

“That would be pretty awful,” Puck muses as they reach the door to the choir room.

“Let’s stop talking about Jesse St. Douchebag,” Finn grumbles. “Makes me sick thinking about him.”

“Good point.”

“Seriously, though. Ask Kurt. He’ll be thrilled to have an excuse to shop.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, dude.”

Finn flumps into a seat in the front row, but Puck continues up to the back, dropping into the seat beside Kurt. "So, Finn said you're the dude to ask for help with shopping, which duh, I know that, right? But he said you're cool with it even if it's Mother's Day."

"You need help with Mother's Day," Kurt nods a little.

"Yeah, I'll take Hannah to get her a card and a flower or something but."

"All right. Saturday? You get off work when?"

"Around 2. If you could come pick me up, that'd be awesome," Puck admits.

"No problem." Kurt smiles. "We'll find something."

They fall silent as Mr. Schue enters… followed by Jesse St. James.

What. the. fuck.

Show choir consultant? What kind of idiocy is this? Jesse's being a complete ass to Finn, and Puck's disgusted.

Okay, but the comment about zombies is pretty funny, and Puck finds himself looking at Kurt, and since Kurt's laughing, well. He leans over on Kurt's shoulder for a second before pulling away. Kurt smells good, he thinks absently, and then tunes back into the conversation to ask who, exactly, Jesse thinks their "star performer" is, because this sounds a little suspicious. Not that Puck has any delusions of being featured, but still.

Puck spends the rest of the day avoiding Lauren for reasons he can't define and trying to avoid his own thoughts about earlier in the choir room because, seriously. Kurt _smells_ good? He's not denying it, but why did he even notice it?

Work is a welcome escape.

 

Tuesday, Finn informs them that they're going to put together a funeral for Sylvester's sister, which, okay. Cool, Puck guesses. He can tell it's important to both Finn and Kurt, and he can sort of guess at why. So in between speculating about who's going to win the slot at Nationals amongst the nine of them not competing, Finn's scribbling a little on a piece of paper. The consensus they reach at lunch, while the other four are auditioning, is that Rachel will win, because it's rigged. Even if Schue might give the slot to someone else, which is unlikely, Jesse's presence means that Rachel's guaranteed to win. She could stand on the stage and croak out Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and she'd win.

Which sucks for the other three, definitely.

The next day is the funeral, which seems weird to Puck. Coach Sylvester's sister died three days ago. They're not supposed to wait that long, but Puck guesses maybe the Christians do it different. Since they do all kinds of things different. Still, he puts on a dark shirt and tie, and asks his mom if he can take the car.

The funeral is weird, and he feels a little uncomfortable singing. He's also appalled by some of the clothes the girls are wearing. Bright and flowery? Whatever. Clearly, what he expects is not what is going to happen. He makes sure to stand by Finn when they sing, though, because Puck knows this isn't easy on Finn or Kurt either one.

When the service is over, Puck lets the girls walk ahead and falls back to quietly whisper the traditional Jewish condolence. "Hamakom y'nachem etchem b'toch sh'ar availai tziyon ee yerushalayim." He forgets exactly what it means, something about comfort amongst all mourners of Zion or something, and maybe he's not supposed to say it to someone about a Christian, but it's all he knows, and Coach Sylvester nods and thanks him.

He spends the next two days doing something he's been avoiding: thinking about Lauren and their relationship. It's not even about her holding him off from anything but making out, or the way she plays hot and cold. He's just not that into her anymore, if he ever really was. He thinks she's a great friend, but he can't muster up anything else.

He tries not to follow that line of thinking. There's still Nationals, after all, and he's really good at suppressing things he doesn't want to think about. _Really_ good. Plus, he's supposed to be focusing on thinking about Lauren, and he does. He thinks about her when he's not studying, when he's driving, when he's in the shower. He thinks and he thinks and ultimately all he can decide is that he needs to break up with her. If they were officially ever together, which technically is a point of order that they never actually addressed.

He puts that all into a different corner of his mind and changes shirts after his shift is over, waiting outside for Kurt, who pulls up at two minutes past two, and promptly apologizes for being late.

"Dude, it's cool. Thanks, by the way."

"Not a problem. I have to find something for Carole, actually. Talk about _awkward_ ," Kurt grimaces. "Families are so complicated."

"Yeah, that would be kinda weird," Puck nods. "And I know for a fact Carole has plenty of lame crafts from elementary school, so no luck with egg carton flowers." He grins, and Kurt returns the grin, shaking his head.

"You didn't go for a handprint in clay for your mom?"

"Did that last year, and my hand's the same size," Puck jokes.

"Tissue paper flower? Clay keychain?" Kurt offers with a smirk, and Puck chuckles.

"Finn promised me actual help, dude!"

"Oh, I thought a painted flower pot was a wonderful idea," Kurt says, voice deadpan. "Especially if you spell both 'Mom' and your own name right."

Puck loses it. "You've seen the kindergarten vase!"

"Yes," Kurt admits, laughing with him. "M-O-M-M, from F-I-N."

They're still laughing when they get to the mall, and Puck waits as Kurt carefully checks his reflection in the car window before heading towards the door.

"Unfortunate crafts aside," he says as they walk inside, "What does your mom like?"

"Um. Well, she never misses Extreme Makeover Home Edition. Or Survivor. She started watching Survivor back when she was pregnant with Hannah. And she makes us watch Schindler's List every year, even though, you know. Hannah's really a little young for that."

Kurt pulls a slight face and nods. "Yes, probably so. Well. Death isn't very happy, so let's go with one of the other ones. Hannah's…"

"Almost eight."

"So the early seasons of Survivor, your mom didn't watch?"

"I don't think so. I think I'd remember it. It seems like it started back with Hannah. And it's been an institution ever since," Puck concludes.

"What about the first couple of seasons of Survivor, then? I bet you can get them on DVD."

"Oh, yeah, that'd be awesome." They walk towards Fye, which luckily does have seasons one and two of Survivor in stock.

"So that's it? That was easy."

"Not quite," Kurt cautions him, and points across the mall to the Hallmark. "You have to wrap them. Or at least get a gift bag and some tissue paper."

"And I guess I should get a card, too."

"Yes," Kurt nods, and sighs himself. "Do they make cards that say 'I'm really, really, really happy you married my dad, and I'm happy to have a new brother, too, but seriously never going to call you 'Mom.'"

Puck laughs softly. "Probably not."

"I just feel awful getting the 'stepmother' card," Kurt explains. "But there's no way…"

"Yeah, I get it." Puck nods. "Maybe get one of the humorous ones that's not specific?"

"Good idea." Kurt flashes him a relieved smile and heads towards that section. "Now go buy your mother something ridiculously sappy."

"Does it have to be pastel?"

"Absolutely."

Puck chuckles again and walks over the pastel cards with cursive writing saying ridiculous things, while Kurt looks through the cards decorated with Garfield and Snoopy. After a few minutes, Kurt must find something suitable, because he moves over to where Puck is, pointing out the most ridiculous flowery cards that he can spot. "You should go for one of the ones that specifically says 'From Your Son,' definitely."

"With the blue flowers?"

"Absolutely. Or daisies on a yellow background." They manage to keep a straight face for most of the conversation before breaking out into laughter. "Come on, go get a gift bag."

"Yeah, yeah, all right." After they each pay, they step back into the mall and Puck looks around. "Too bad Carole doesn't like video games, it'd be a nice excuse to go next door," he crooks a finger towards GameStop.

"Why not?" Kurt shrugs. "I have time if you do. And I have no idea what to get Carole. Maybe something will come to me."

"Cool." They spend ten or fifteen minutes in the GameStop store before Kurt sighs.

"I should try to find something. This is hard. Why didn't I ask for a pass on gift giving when they got married? It could have been my fee for planning!"

Puck laughs as Kurt's voice gets a little higher and a little more distressed with each sentence. "Clothes?" He points at some store across the aisle.

Kurt _shudders_. "Oh my god, no. That store is just…" He pantomimes barfing, albeit in a graceful way.

"So Spencer's is definitely out?"

Kurt just shakes his head and laughs. They're walking towards the rest of the mall when Kurt's phone rings. "Oh, hang on." He pulls it out and answers the phone. "Hi. Yeah, at the mall. Mmmhmm. Not really. Yes, tomorrow, 2. Okay. Okay. Bye." He puts the phone away quickly. "Sorry, Blaine." He has a little smile on his face, but it's not the blinding one they all saw at Regionals or even at the ill-fated benefit concert.

"S'cool," Puck nods. "So, what about a gift card? I know they're kind of lame, but I think GNC is out."

"Yes, I think a supplement for women over forty is probably highly inappropriate," Kurt nods, face carefully blank.

Puck just snorts.

"No, I think you're right. Maybe Bath & Body Works. If I hold my nose. All those scents mixed together."

"You don't buy stuff there?"

"No, I spend way too much ordering from Lush."

"What's that?"

Kurt rolls his eyes just slightly. "Only the best skincare store ever. Which, of course, we don't have in Lima. Naturally." He stops outside the Bath & Body Works store. "Wait here. I'm going to brave it."

Puck laughs and sits on a bench, watching Kurt's pinched expression as he buys the gift card and then walks quickly from the store. "You survived."

"I did. It was touch and go for a bit."

"You want to grab food? I love food courts."

"Yeah, that sounds good."

Puck only gets food from three different places, which still earns up a look of amusement from Kurt, who's eating a huge cheesesteak sub. "What?” Kurt says, a little defensively. “I'm 17."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Finn laughed the first time he and Carole came over for dinner. Not for long, mind, but. I think he expected me to eat a few celery sticks or something."

"And you don't?"

"I eat them filled with peanut butter. As a snack."

"I like 'em with the raisins too."

"I prefer my raisins separate from other food."

"Yeah? I love a good oatmeal raisin cookie."

"Oh, no. Chocolate chip oatmeal, all the way."

"That does sound good," Puck acknowledges. "I'll have to try that."

"Do." Kurt nods. "You won't regret it."

After they finish eating, they head back towards the parking lot. "Thanks, dude. Seriously, this is awesome."

"It was fun," Kurt shrugs. "And thanks for the gift card idea. Even if I did have to risk myself getting it."

"Yeah, it was." They sing along with the radio on the way back to Puck's apartment, which Kurt apparently remembers the location of. "Thanks for the ride. See you Monday."

"See you then."

 

Puck walks to school on Monday with every intention of breaking up with Lauren. Rachel finds him in the parking lot and starts talking about the importance of no one being distracted with romantic drama. Puck frowns as he heads to his first class, because Rachel's probably right. Dammit. Lauren is back to acting interested, too, so Puck mentally shrugs and plays along. He'll deal with it after Nationals. Right?

They have to be at the airport in Columbus at 7:30 in the morning, which means Puck is yawning heavily as he stands on the sidewalk at 5:15, waiting to be picked up. Kurt's driving all six of the guys plus Mercedes, and the other girls are divided between Santana's compact and Quinn's sedan.

"That's all you've got?" Mike asks, gesturing to Puck's duffel bag and guitar case.

"Yeah." Puck shrugs. "I checked the rules, my guitar is a carry-on."

"Cool."

The ride is quiet, and they're all relieved to spill into the airport and line up at the Starbucks counter. Puck flashes his employee ID and grins when he gets his for half-price. "Which store?"

"Lima."

"There's only one up there, yeah?"

"Yeah, it's pretty quiet. Not busy like this."

"You get used to it. Good flight."

"Yeah, thanks."

Mr. Schuester finds them after that, distributing tickets and going into a last minute lecture about plane etiquette. He asks for a show of hands for those that have been on a plane before. Only Quinn, Artie, and Mike raise their hands, and that sends Schue into another spiel, making sure that they all understand that plane travel is safe. Finally, Finn interrupts him and suggests that they get in line and go through security already.

Flying is pretty cool. Puck manages to score a window seat, and he spends most of the flight listening to music and staring out at the clouds. It's an awesome view and the flight is super-smooth. He could get used to flying places. It's the safest form of transportation, anyway, or that's what Schue said in his rambling earlier. Puck's down with that.

The first day in New York starts out to be kind of slow; he can't even get a cocktail. Lauren's sticking pretty close, but he's careful not to be overly cool or overly affectionate. Then Schue makes them all stay in the room to write songs, which is bullshit. Puck tries to express why he feels that way, and it must work, because the next thing everyone knows, they're out in the streets singing.

When they're back in the room, though, they still don't have any good songs written, and Finn's too busy mooning over Rachel to get anything done. So Puck helps his boy out, though he may have overdone it when talking about romcoms. He didn't want to let on that he voluntarily watches them with his mom and Hannah. Some of them are kind of awesome. Some of them suck, like _Failure to Launch_ , but that's mainly because Sarah Jessica Parker sort of creeps him out. Her hair and her skin are like, monochromatic, and that's just _weird_.

And Matthew McConaughey is weird, too, and whenever Sam does his impersonation Puck just grits his teeth.

Still, it's a pretty badass plan, since chicks always seem to like those big date scenes, and no one has any reason to think Rachel'd be any different. Puck is sort of stunned that she turns Finn down, but somehow he's not surprised when Finn shakes him awake way too early the next morning.

"Dude, it's way early."

"I need music."

"Okay?"

"I have the lyrics, I need music."

Puck shakes his head and yawns. "Okay, okay." He stands up and stretches and pulls on a fresh shirt. "Lobby?" he asks, looking around at the other three still asleep.

"Yeah, okay."

Puck yawns again and stumbles into the bathroom before grabbing his guitar to meet Finn in the lobby. An hour later, they have the song mostly worked out. Finn shoves it all, lyrics and music, into his back pocket and they head back upstairs, only to have Goolsby show up a few minutes later, and everyone just sort of stares around the room.

When Mr. Schue finally shows up and explains that no, he's not leaving, the room is silent for a minute, and Puck thinks _screw it_ and gets up to give Schue a hug, because dammit, it does mean something that he's staying and not leaving.

They eventually write a good group number, and then Finn pulls out the music and lyrics they worked on earlier, and Schue loves it, so they have their two songs for the performance the next day. They eat more pizza and then Schue insists they go to bed early, which they all admit is a good idea in theory, but in practice, it's after 1 am before everyone's in the proper bed in the proper room.

They all look pretty awesome in their performance outfits, even if Artie's kind of a douchebag and starts bitching about two-tone shoes. "Whatever, dude, we look awesome." Puck strikes a pose, looking in the mirror. He can't say quite the same for the girls' outfits, which seem weird, but then Finn nudges him and tells him that Kurt put together the boys' outfits but Schue had already picked out the girls', which explains a hell of a lot.

The duet sounds great, even if Puck is a bit biased. When they finish, though, there's utter silence in the auditorium. Puck waits for a few beats before chancing a peek behind him.

Really? They have to figure it out _right now_?

There's finally scattered applause and then the band gets with the program and launches into the next song, which is pretty fun and all. Even if Puck thinks "Loser Like Me" was a better group number.

Again, it's not like he's biased, except that he is.

Waiting for the top ten to be announced is agonizing, but Puck figures it's lucky they managed to be in the afternoon group. Waiting around for the entire day after performing would be, he thinks, even worse.

Just when Puck's nerves couldn't be stretched any further, Kurt comes over to tell them that the top ten list is up, and Puck revises his opinion. NOW his nerves couldn't be stretched thinner.

Puck isn't prepared for the crushing sensation when Schue tells them that they aren't in the top ten. He hadn't been one of the people claiming loudly that they were going to win, but yeah, he'd hoped. At least for top ten. This is agony, and no one says a word until after they are back in the hotel. No one still says anything, but Santana starts screaming, anyway, and it takes Quinn, Sam, and Mike all to hold her back from doing… Puck's not sure what. Puck doesn't particularly care.

Nationals is over, they're flying home the next evening, and when the plane touches down in Ohio, he has to stop putting thoughts out of his head, and actually think about them.

 

Kurt knocks on the doorframe and peers inside, watching Finn kill a few strangely drawn characters on his computer screen.

Finn looks up from his computer for a second and says, “Hey, man,” before directing his...whatever it is to shoot at the opposing...whatever it is. Finn is obviously prepared for a long night of online gaming, because he has two bottled Pepsis and a bag of buttersnap pretzels.

Kurt takes a few steps inside the room and sits on the very edge of the bed. “Have a few minutes?”

“Uh, sure, just let me get to a save point.” Finn maneuvers his character into some kind of campsite, clicks a few choices from a dropdown menu, and then turns the screen off. “Ok, whatcha need?”

“I think I screwed up.”

“What did you screw up?”

“I met Blaine for coffee earlier. And in the middle of telling him about New York, he looks at me adoringly and says, ‘I love you.’” Kurt purses his lips. “And so I took a sip of coffee and said, ‘Love you too.’ Which sounds good, right?”

“Yeah, that’s great, man! Congratulations.” Finn grins at him. “So what was the screw up?”

“Other than the fact that I only responded that way because I had no idea how else to respond?” Kurt says dryly. “It wasn’t exactly something I was expecting, and... I don’t know. Of course I care about Blaine. But am I in love with him?” Kurt screws up his face into a grimace.

“Oh,” Finn says, grin vanishing. He makes a painful little wince. “So, not congratulations, then? That’s, that’s kind of a situation, isn’t it?”

Kurt nods. “It’s just... you probably didn’t notice, but when we were in New York, I wasn’t exactly the only gay guy in the competition. It’s a show choir competition; there are plenty of gays in show choir.” He makes a little face. “And it probably wouldn’t be a big deal to you, but some of them actually seemed to _look_ at me. Like I was someone that deserved a second look.” Kurt pauses, collecting his thoughts. “When I look around, or Blaine looks around, there’s only one person each of us can see.”

“Of course you’re worth taking a second look at,” Finn says, jovially. “I mean, I’m not the best judge of dudes or whatever, but I thought you looked really nice in your prom outfit. I bet there’s a lot of guys out there who go for that.”

“You’re very sweet, Finn,” Kurt smiles. “And you are probably right. There just aren’t that many guys into dudes in this area, kilt-loving or no.”

“So then, doesn’t that mean it was pretty lucky that you and Blaine found each other?” Finn asks.

“Is it luck? Or is it settling?”

“Well...” Finn says, screwing his features into his thinking face. “I guess if you don’t have a lot of people to choose from, it sorta makes the choice a little less of a big deal. I mean, I don’t want to bring girls into this conversation or anything--is it ok if I bring girls into this conversation right now?”

“Yes, Finn,” Kurt agrees, suppressing a smile.

“Cool, ‘cause that’s all I have to work with here,” Finn says, smiling, and then putting his serious face back on. “So, back before I met Rachel, when I was with Quinn and had been with Quinn for pretty much ever...it wasn’t ever much of a choice, you know? I was good at football and I was tall, she was a cheerleader and she was pretty, so everybody just assumed, we just assumed, that meant we were supposed to be together. Not really a choice, see?”

“Yes, exactly,” Kurt nods, relieved that Finn seems to understand what he’s saying.

“So, Quinn seemed pretty perfect. She’s smart, she’s pretty...I mean, she’s a little crazy, but sometimes that can be hot, too. I never really thought about whether I was happy. I just figured it was meant to be like that. Then I met Rachel and I realized that there was another option out there and that maybe life wasn’t, you know what I mean? Like, scripted, or something.”

“Yes. Yes, that’s what I mean.” Kurt frowns and then elaborates. “Blaine is... we’re not exactly alike, but we’re fairly similar. We both like to sing, we like some of the same magazines and shows, but he likes football a lot more than I do. And, of course, we’re both gay in small-town Ohio. It’s a perfect match... or so it seems.”

Finn nods. “Like a gay quarter back and cheerleader. Gay cheerleader. Gay male cheerleader.”

“I _was_ a cheerleader for a short period, Finn,” Kurt snorts.

“I remember,” Finn says, “but it’s really not the same without the skirt. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t meet your approval,” Kurt says drolly, then laughs. “But, yes. Your analogy is correct. So you can see where I am... uncertain.”

“Yeah,” Finn nods enthusiastically. “That sucks, Kurt. I’m sorry. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I was... I realized it in New York. Rachel and I snuck into the Gershwin,” he relates with a grin, “and we sang, and... I knew then. I just thought there was no harm in continuing to date Blaine. I’m here, he’s here, we’re queer,” Kurt throws up his hands. “But now....”

“Now he’s in love with you and you don’t think you feel the same way about him.”

Kurt sighs. “Exactly. So am I leading him on if we keep dating?”

“You can date somebody without loving them,” Finn says, after thinking about it for a while.  
“But I don’t think you can keep telling him you love him, too.”

Kurt frowns. “I know. I just don’t know that, in this specific situation, I can keep dating him. Even if I never say it again. I lied, whether I meant to or not.”

“I don’t know, Kurt. It’s not really lying if you aren’t totally sure. Maybe you were just trying out the idea of loving him and it doesn’t, I dunno, fit right.”

Kurt tilts his head, considering Finn’s words. “Maybe. It was more of a... this is what I _should_ say kind of thing.”

“That’s rough. I mean, it’s hard to be put on the spot like that, but I kinda understand how he feels. There’s not really a gentle way to spring an ‘I love you’ on someone.”

“No, there’s not. I suppose I should just see what happens in the next week or so.”

“Yeah,” Finn nods. “Maybe give it a little time to sink in and see if there’s any part of you that feels the same way. I think that you’ll be happier if you know for sure, either way.”

Kurt moves his head back and forth in a little tick-tock motion for a moment, then nods. “You’re probably right.” He stands up and plasters on a smile. “Thanks, Finn.”

“No problem. That’s what brothers are for, right?”

“So you keep assuring me,” Kurt retorts, but the smile on his face is more genuine now, taking the sting from his words. “I’ll let you get back to your game.”

 

The last glee club meeting of the year is surprisingly celebratory, full of laughs and capital-p Plans for their remaining year at McKinley. There are still two more weeks of school, but that’s mostly finals and studying and shit, so this is their last official meeting.

It’s fun and all, but when it’s over, Puck throws his backpack over his shoulder and steels himself a little, following Lauren down the hall. “Lauren, hey, wait up.”

“Puckerman,” Lauren acknowledges with a little ‘what’s up’ nod of her head.

“Listen, um.” Puck pushes the door open as they walk towards the parking lot, and it occurs to him that maybe he should have practiced this ahead of time, or something. Oh, well–too late now. “I don’t know, we never really said if we were really going out or just dating sometimes or well.” Puck scratches his head.

“Look, if you want to take me out again, just say it,” Lauren interjects, rolling her eyes. “I’ve got a thing I’ve gotta do today.”

“Uh, no,” Puck frowns, but it makes it easier to keep going. “I, just. I think we’re like... over.”

“‘S that right?” Lauren asks, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips. “And you got that impression because?”

“Because I decided I was breaking up with you. If we were actually going out.”

Lauren scowls for a minute, then shrugs, “Fair enough. This wasn’t exactly the most riveting...” she pauses, “ _relationship_ in the world.” It’s clear from her tone that she is only using ‘relationship’ in its loosest sense.

“Oh, fuck you too, Zizes,” Puck snaps.

“Funny,” she snaps back, “didn’t seem to interested in that aspect of the ‘relationship’ while it was happening.”

“Yeah, you were all over me and I was just pushing you off.”

“Like you could push me if you tried, tiny man,” she scoffs. “You didn’t exactly get my panties wet. Maybe I’m just too much woman for you.”

Puck just scowls. “Whatever. Clearly this was a good decision on my part.”

“Clearly,” Lauren snorts. “Now you can go back to chasing after those vapid little twigs you _actually_ prefer.”

“Yeah, you’re so smart,” Puck scoffs, and turns towards the sidewalk. “See you.”

Lauren just makes a rude dismissive noise and turns away.

Puck fumes for a little bit as he walks home, but then he chalks it up to good luck. He never thought Lauren would be one of those clingy, crying girls after getting dumped, but it's always a possibility. One that he's avoided.

He's almost home when Finn's truck pulls alongside him. "Video games?"

"Sure." Puck shrugs and climbs in.

"Sweet! You have L.A. Noire."

"Uh, yeah," Finn nods, heading to the kitchen, and Puck fires it up. They've been playing for over an hour when the garage door swings open and hurried, angry footsteps stalk down the hall into the kitchen. Puck pauses the game at Finn's gesture.

"Kurt?"

"Sorry!" Kurt's voice calls back. "I didn't mean to be so loud."

"You okay?" Finn continues.

Kurt appears at the doorway, a can of pop in his hand. "Mmm. I guess." He shoots Finn a glance that Puck thinks is pretty loaded with meaning, and drops down into the recliner. "Same thing I mentioned last night."

Finn screws up his face and nods, and restarts the game. Puck just shrugs and goes back to the game, too.

 

Puck has to give the glee gossip chain a hand, because everyone knows that he and Lauren are done before he gets to first period the next day. That's impressive, even for the damn glee club, especially considering he hadn't talked to anyone but Finn and Kurt the night before, and he didn't mention the break up. He spent the rest of his evening working on the stupid digital media project for English. Of course, Lauren could have called people. Whatever. He doesn't really care.

Unless she says she dumped him, because he'd be, like, morally obligated to correct _that_ misperception.


End file.
